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RHESUS 


THE  PLAYS  OF  EURIPIDES 

FOR  ENGLISH  READERS 

In  English  rhyming  verse  with  Explanatory  Notes 

Translated  by 

GILBERT  MURRAY.  LL.D..  D.Litt.,  F.B.A. 

Regius  Professor  of  Creek  in  the  University  of  Oxford 

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THE 

RHESUS 

OF 

EURIPIDES 


TRANSLATED   INTO  ENGLISH   RHYMING  VERSE 
WITH  EXPLANATORY   NOTES  BY 

GILBERT    MURRAY 

LL.D.,  D.LiTT.,  F.B.A. 

REGIUS    PROFESSOR  OF   GREEK  IN    THE    UNIVERSITY  OF  OXFORD 


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College 
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INTRODUCTION 

This  short  plaj^  needs  rather  a  long  Introduction.  It 
has  had  the  bad  fortune  to  become  a  literary  problem, 
and  almost  all  its  few  readers  are  so  much  occupied  with 
the  question  whether  it  can  be  the  work  of  Euripides 
— and  if  not  his,  whose? — that  they  seldom  allow  them- 
selves to  take  it  on  its  merits  as  a  stirring  and  ad- 
venturous piece,  not  particularly  profound  or  subtle, 
but  always  full  of  movement  and  life  and  possessing 
at  least  one  or  two  scenes  of  great  and  penetrating 
beauty. 

The  outlines  of  the  Rhesus  Question  are  these. — 
The  Rhesus  appears  in  the  MSS.  of  Euripides;  we 
know  from  the  Athenian  Didascaliae,  or  Records  of 
Performances,  that  Euripides  wrote  a  play  of  the 
name;  some  passages  in  it  are  quoted  by  early 
Alexandrian  writers  as  from  "  the  Rhesus  of  Euri- 
pides;" no  passage  is  quoted  under  any  other  name. 
This  seems  about  as  strong  as  external  evidence 
need  be.  Yet  the  ancient  introduction  to  the  play 
mentions  that  "  some  think  the  play  spurious,"  and 
expresses  the  odd  opinion  that  "  it  suggests  rather  the 
Sophoclean  style."  Further,  it  tells  us  that,  besides 
the  present  opening  scene,  there  were  extant  two  dif- 
ferent prologues,  one  of  which  was  "  quite  prosy  and 
perhaps  concocted  by  the  actors."  This  seems  to  show 
that  the  Alexandrian  scholars  who  tried  for  the  first 

V 


INTRODUCTION 

time  to  collect  the  complete  works  of  Euripides,  some 
two  centuries  after  his  death,  found  this  play  current 
as  "  Euripides'  Rhesus,"  but  that  it  was  credited  with 
three  different  openings  and  that  its  style  was  felt  to 
be  somehow  peculiar. 

The  peculiarity  of  style  is  incontestable.  It  does 
not  to  our  judgment  suggest  Sophocles.  It  suggests  a 
young  man  imitating  Aeschylus,  and  it  has  a  great 
number  of  Euripidean  expressions.  Hermann,  who 
collected  what  he  took  to  be  "  imitations "  of  early 
poets  in  the  Rhesus,  noted  only  25  of  Sophocles,  38 
of  Aeschylus,  and  84  of  Euripides. 

Is  it,  then,  the  work  of  a  somewhat  imitative  fourth- 
century  poet,  naturally  influenced  by  his  great  fore- 
runners? Hardly:  because,  with  a  few  exceptions, 
the  verse  and  diction  of  the  Rhesus,  are  markedly  early 
in  character,  the  verse  severe  and  smooth,  the  diction 
direct  and  rather  grandiose,  the  choral  lyrics  strictly 
relevant.  In  Euripides'  later  years  Drama  was  moving 
rapidly  away  from  all  these  things  and,  as  far  as  we 
can  judge,  continued  so  moving  after  his  death.  If 
the  Rhesus  is  a  post-classical  play  it  can  hardly  be 
honest  fourth-century  work:  it  must  be  deliberately 
archaistic,  a  product  of  the  Alexandrian  spirit  if  not 
actually  of  the  Alexandrian  age.  This  is  what  Her- 
mann believed.  But  unfortunately  it  is  not  a  bit 
more  like  our  fragments  of  Alexandrian  tragedy  than 
it  is  like  the  Medea;  and,  further,  if  it  is  an  Alex- 
andrian pseudo-classic  tragedy,  how  did  it  succeed  in 
deceiving  the  Alexandrian  critics,  detectives  specially 
trained  for  this  kind  of  work? 

Let  us  try  quite  a  different  hypothesis,  and  begin  by 

vi 


INTRODUCTION 

accepting  the  external  evidence  as  true.  The   famous 
critic,  Crates,  of  the  second  century  B.C.,  happens  to 
mention — in  excuse  of  what  he  took  to  be  a  slip  in  the 
poet's  astronomy — that   the  Rhesus  of  Euripides  was 
a  youthful  work.     Now  the  earliest  dated  tragedy  of 
Euripides   that   we   possess  is   the   Alcestis,    B.C.   438, 
written    when    he    was    about    forty-six.     His    style 
may  well  have  been  considerably  different  fifteen   or 
twenty   years   earlier,   and   must   certainly    have    been 
much  under  the  influence   of  Aeschylus.      So   far,  so 
good.     Then  what  of  the  other  difficulties,  the  three 
different  opening  scenes  and  the  few  passages  of  late 
phrasing    or    technique?      One    obvious    explanation 
suits    both.       The    three    different    openings    pretty 
clearly  imply  that  the  play  was  reproduced  more  than 
once  after  the  poet's  death  and  adapted  by  the  producer 
for  each  occasion.     This  happened  to  many  plays  of 
Euripides,  and  in  one  case  we  even  know  the  name  of 
the  producer;  he  was  Euripides  the  Younger,  son  of 
the  poet.     Among  other  things  we  have  reason  to  be- 
lieve  that   he   wrote  some  parts  of   the   Iphigenia  in 
Aulis.     And    in   this   connexion  we   can    hardly  help 
noticing  that  the  Iphigcnia  in  Aulis,  like  the  Rhesus 
and  like  no  other  Greek  tragedy,  has  two  alternative 
openings,  one  a  dull  prologue  and  one  a  lyrical  scene 
in  anapaests  under  the  stars.    The  general  style  of  the 
two   plays  is  utterly  different;  the  Iphigcnia  is  most 
typically  late  Euripidean;  but  one  would  not  be  sur- 
prised to  learn  that  they  had  both  passed  at  some  time 
through  the  same  revising  hand. 

This    hypothesis    seems    to    work    well.     But    one 
difficulty  remains. 

We    have    so    far    gone    on    the    supposition    that 

vii 


INTRODUCTION 

Euripides  at  twenty-five  or  thirty  perhaps  wrote  very 
differently  from  Euripides  at  forty-six,  and  that  the 
manner  we  call  Euripidean  is  only  the  manner  of 
his  later  life.  There  is  nothing  improbable  in  this 
suggestion,  but  have  we  any  evidence?  Yes,  a  very 
little,  and  unfortunately  it  does  not  say  what  we 
want.  We  have  some  fragments — twenty  lines  alto- 
gether— preserved  from  the  Peliades,  with  which 
'Euripides  won  his  first  victory  in  the  year  455,  seven- 
teen years  before  the  Alcestis,  and  as  far  as  they  go 
they  are  just  in  his  ordinary  manner — a  good  deal 
more  so,  in  fact,  than  much  of  the  Alcestis  is.  Let  us 
face  this  difficulty. 

The  ordinary  style  of  Euripides  is  full,  flexible, 
lucid,  antithetic,  studiously  simple  in  vocabulary  and 
charged  with  philosophic  reflection.  If  we  look  in 
his  extant  remains  for  any  trace  of  a  style,  like  that 
of  the  Rhesus,  which  is  comparatively  terse,  rich, 
romantic,  not  shrinking  from  rare  words  and  strong 
colour  and  generally  untinged  by  philosophy,  we  shall 
find  the  nearest  approach  to  it  in  the  Cyclops.  Next 
to  the  Cyclops  I  am  not  sure  what  play  would  come, 
but  the  Alcestis  would  not  be  far  off.  It  has 
especially  several  Epic  forms  which  cannot  be  paralleled 
in  tragedy.  Now  the  conjunction  of  these  two 
plays  with  the  Rhesus  is  significant.  The  three  seem 
to  be  three  earliest  of  the  extant  plays ;  they  are  also — 
if  we  count  the  Heraclidae  as  mutilated — the  three 
shortest.  But,  what  is  more  important,  the  Cyclops 
is  not  a  tragedy  but  a  satyr-play,  and  the  Alcestis  is 
a  tragedy  of  a  special  sort,  written  to  take  the  place  of 
a  satyr-play.  It  is  a  tragedy  with  some  half  grotesque 
figures  and  a  fantastic  atmosphere. 

viii 


V       INTRODUCTION 

This  is  no  place  for  a  close  analysis  of  the  diction 
of  the  various  works  of  Euripides;  but  taking  one 
rough  test,  just  for  what  it  is  worth,  we  may  try  to 
count  the  number  of  words  in  each  play  which  are 
not  found  elsewhere  in  Euripides.  The  Medea,  a 
central  sort  of  play,  has  in  its  1419  lines  103  such 
words.  The  Alcestis,  with  1163  lines,  has  122;  the 
Rhesus,  with  less  than  1000  lines,  has  177  ;  the  Cyclops, 
with  only  701  lines,  has  actually  220.  This  calcula- 
tion is  doubtless  slightly  inexact :  in  any  case  it  is  worth 
very  little  until  it  is  carefully  analysed.  But  on  the 
whole  it  accords  with  my  general  impression  that  the 
Rhesus  in  its  variation  from  the  Euripidean  norm  goes 
further  than  the  Alcestis,  and  not  so  far  as  the  Cyclops, 
and  goes  in  very  much  the  same  direction.  I  feel  in 
the  Rhesus  a  good  deal  of  that  curious  atmosphere,  not 
exactly  comic,  but  wild  and  extravagant,  which  the 
Greeks  felt  to  be  suited  to  the  Satyr  horde;  the 
atmosphere  normally  breathed  by  the  one-eyed  Giant 
of  the  cavern  on  volcanic  Aetna,  or  the  drunken  and 
garlanded  Heracles  who  wrestles  with  Death  and 
cracks  his  ribs  for  him  at  midnight  among  the  tombs. 
The  whole  scene  and  setting  of  the  Rhesus;  the 
man-wolf  crawling  away  into  the  darkness  and  his  two 
enemies  presently  crawling  in  out  of  the  same  dark- 
ness with  his  bloody  spoils;  the  divine  Thracian  king 
with  his  round  targe  that  shines  by  night  and  his 
horses  whiter  than  the  snow;  the  panic  of  the  watch, 
the  vaunting  of  the  doomed  chieftain,  the  goddess 
disguised  as  another  goddess,  the  thrilling  half-farcical 
scene  where  the  spy  Odysseus  is  actually  caught  and 
befools  his  captors:  these  things  are  not  of  course 
comic,  like    some    incidents    in    the    Cyclops.     They 

ix 


INTRODUCTION 

belong  to  tragedy;  but  they  are  near  the  outside  limit 
of  the  tragic  convention,  and  would  perhaps  be  most 
at  home  in  a  pro-satyric  tragedy  like  the  Alcestis. 

In  the  upshot  I  see  no  adequate  reason  for  rejecting 
the  external  evidence  which  makes  this  play  a  work  of 
Euripides,  if  we  suppose  it  to  be  an  early  pro-satyric 
play  which  was  produced  again  after  the  poet's  death 
by  Euripides  the  Younger  or  some  contemporary. 
Most  scholars,  however,  prefer  to  think  it  simply  an 
archaistic  work  of  the  fourth  century. 
•  On  this  theory  the  Alexandrians  when  looking  for 
the  Rhesus  of  Euripides  found  an  anonymous  play 
called  Rhesus  and  accepted  it  for  what  it  was  worth. 
The  Prologues  mentioned  in  the  argument  would 
perhaps  belong  to  other  plays  of  the  same  name; 
one,  no  doubt,  to  the  real  play  of  Euripides.  The 
rich  and  severe  style  may,  for  all  we  know — for 
direct  evidence  fails  us — be  the  natural  work  of  some 
reactionary  archaistic  school  about  the  time  of  Plato 
or  Aristotle.  The  same  date  might  well  be  in- 
dicated by  the  great  interest  our  play  takes  in  the 
Iliad,  and  by  its  almost  "  Alexandrian  "  use  of 
the  gods  as  ornamental  machinery.  I  cannot  call  such 
a  theory  improbable;  but  it  really  amounts  to  reject- 
ing the  external  evidence  in  order  to  place  the  Rhesus 
in  a  period  of  tragic  style  of  which  we  happen  to 
know  nothing.  It  is  certainly  not  confirmed  by 
the  scanty  fragments  we  possess  of  Theodectes  or 
Chairemon. 

And,  if  one  is  to  venture  into  more  speculative 
and  subjective  arguments,  I  find  it  rather  hard  to 
think  of  any  lyric  poet  except  Euripides  who  could 
have  written  the  Adrastcia  chorus  or  the  lines  about 

X 


INTRODUCTION 

the  Nightingale  in  the  Watchers'  Song;  of  any  play- 
wright except  Euripides  who  would  have  ended  a 
play  of  gallant  martial  adventure  with  the  vision  of  a 
solitary  mother  clasping  her  dead  son.  There  are 
many  other  passages,  too,  like  the  mysterious  sobbing 
in  the  dark  that  heralds  the  entry  of  the  wounded 
Thracian,  and  the  final  passing  out  of  the  army  to  its 
certain  defeat,  which  seem  to  me  more  like  unde- 
veloped genius  than  common  imitative  mediocrity.  If 
a  nameless  fourth-century  poet  wrote  this  play,  I  think 
we  should  have  heard  more  of  him. 

The  story  of  the  play  is  taken  straight  from  the 
Doloneia,  an  Epic  rhapsody  which  now  takes  its  place 
as  the  Tenth  Book  of  the  Iliad,  but  was  very  likely 
independent  in  the  time  of  Euripides  {Rise  of  the 
Greek  Epic,  p.  313  f,).  The  play  seems  in  one  or 
two  points  to  follow  a  more  archaic  model  than  the 
version  in  our  Homer.      (See  notes  on  1.   150  and  1. 

175.) 

In  Rhesus  himself — the  name  is  said  to  be  the 
Thracian  form  of  rex  ^ — we  seem  to  have  the  tradi- 
tional divine  king  of  the  Thracian  tribes  about  Pan- 
gaion,  seen  through  the  eyes  of  Greek  romance.  He 
is  the  son  of  the  greatest  of  Rivers  and  the  Muse  of 
the  Mountain:  she  is  simply  "The  Muse,"  other- 
wise nameless,  and  we  are  lost  if  we  try  to  bind  her 
down  to  the  identity  of  any  Greek  goddess.  Like 
many  Thracian  heroes  Rhesus  has  a  dash  of  the  Sun- 
god  in  him,  the  burning  targe,  the  white  horses 
and   the   splendour.     Like   them   he  is  a  boaster  and 

^Perdrizet,  Cultes  et  Mythes  Je  Pangee,  p.  17. 

xi 


INTRODUCTION 

a  deep  drinker,  a  child  of  battle  and  of  song.  Like 
other  divine  kings  he  dies  in  his  youth  and  strength, 
and  keeps  watch  over  his  people  from  some  "  feast- 
ing presence,  full  of  light,"  where  he  lies  among 
the  buried  silver-veins  of  Pangaion.  If  the  utter- 
most need  comes,  doubtless  he  will  wake  again. 
When  the  Athenians  began  making  their  dangerous 
settlements  on  the  coast  of  Thrace — ten  thousand 
settlers  were  massacred  by  Rhesus's  people  about 
465  B.C.:  Amphipolis  not  fully  established  till  437 — 
they  found  the  legend  of  Rhesus  in  the  air,  and 
eventually  they  thought  it  prudent  to  send  for  his 
hallowed  bones  from  the  Troad,  where  they  were 
supposed  to  be  buried,  a,nd  give  them  a  tomb  In 
the  Athenian  colony.  Possibly  that  pacified  him. 
And  his  legend  in  the  mouth  of  the  poets  seemed 
perhaps  like  the  story  of  his  own  mountaineers, 
multitudes  of  strong  men,  stormy  and  chivalrous,  ter- 
rible In  onset,  who  somehow  in  the  end  melted  away 
before  the  skill  and  persistent  courage  of  a  civilised 
Greek   city. 


xu 


RHESUS 


CHARACTERS  OF  THE  PLAY 

Hector,  Prince  of  Ilion  and  General  of  the  Trojan  Armies. 

Aeneas,  a  Trojan  Prince. 

DoLON,  a  Trojan. 

Paris,  also  called  Alexander,  brother   of  Hector. 

Rhesus,  King  of  Thrace,  son  of  the  River  Strymon  and  the 

Muse   of   the   Mountains. 
A  Thracian,  the  King's  charioteer. 

Odysseus,  a   Greek  chieftain,  famous  for  craft  and  daring. 
DioMEDES,  a  Greek  chieftain,  famous  for  'valour. 
A  Shepherd. 

The  Goddess  Athena. 

The  Muse  of  the  Mountains. 

Chorus   of  Trojan   Guards  ivith  their  Leader. 
Some  Thracians  ^uith  their  Captain,  Attendants,  &c. 

The  date  and  authorship  of  the  play  are  unknown;  it 
probably  belongs  to  the  Fifth  Cetttury  B.C.,  and  is  attributed 
to   Euripides. 


VV.    I-IO 


RHESUS 

It  is  a  cloudy  hut  moonlight  night  on  the  plain  before 
Troy.  The  Trojans  and  their  allies  have  ivon  a 
decisive  victory  and  are  camping  on  the  open  field 
close  to  the  Greek  outposts.  The  scene  is  in  front 
of  a  rude  tent  or  hut  that  has  been  set  up  for  Hec- 
tor, the  Trojan  leader.  A  watch-fire  burns  low  in 
front.  Far  off  at  the  back  can  be  seen  rows  of 
watch-fires  in  the  Greek  camp.  The  road  to  Troy 
is  in  front  to  the  left;  the  road  to  Mount  Ida  leads 
far  away  to  the  right. 

All  is  silence;  then  a  noise  outside.  Enter  tumultuously 
a  band  of  Trojan  Pickets. 

Various  Voices. 

{^The  dash  —  in  these  passages  indicates  a  new  speaker.) 

On  to  the  Prince's  quarters! — Ho! 
Who  is  awake?    What  man-at-arms, 
Or  squire  or  groom  ? — Let  Hector  know 

New  rumour  of  alarms 
From  sentinels  who  stand  at  mark 
The  four  long  watches  of  the  dark, 
While  others  sleep. — Uplift  thine  head, 
O  Hector!    On  thine  elbow  rise, 
Unhood  the  eagle  of  thine  eyes, 

Up  from  thy  leaf-strewn  bed ! — 

Lord  Hector! 


EURIPIDES  vv.  11-28 

Hector  {coming  out  from  the  tent). 

Who  goes  there ?    Who  cries? 
A  friend  ?     The  watchword !   ...   By  what  right 
Do  men  come  prowling  in  the  night 
Across  my  quarters?     Come!     Speak  out. 


A  picket,  Lord. 


Leader. 

Hector. 
In  such  a  rout  ? 

Leader. 


Be  not  afraid,  Lord. 


Hector. 
I  am  not. 


Is  there  an  ambush?     No?    Then  what, 
In  God's  name,  brings  you  from  your  post 

With  no  clear  tale  to  speak, 
To  spread  this  turmoil  through  a  host 
That  lies  in  harness — do  ye  all 
Know  nothing? — out  against  the  wall 

And  gateways  of  the  Greek  ? 

Chorus  {various  voices  confusedly).       [Strophe. 

To  arms!     To  arms,  Lord  Hector! — Send 

First  where  the  allied  armies  lie. 
Bid  them  draw  sword  and  make  an  end 

Of  sleep. — Let  someone  fly 
And  get  the  horses'  armour  on! — 
Who  goes  with  me  to  Panthoos'  son  ? — 

4 


vv.  29-54  RHESUS 

Who's  for  Sarpedon  and  the  Lyci'ans  ? — None 

Hath  seen  the  priest  go  by? — 
Ho,  Captain  of  the  Runners,  ho! — 
Ho,  Trojans  of  the  horned  bow! 

String,  string!    For  need  is  nigh. 

Hector. 

Ha,  silence  there!   .    .    . 

First  words  of  fear. 
Then  comfort.    All  an  empty  swell! 
It  seems  the  lash  of  trembling  Pan 
Hath  caught  you.    Speak,  if  speak  ye  can. 
What  tidings?    Not  a  word  is  clear 
Of  the  whole  tale  ye  tell. 
[The  turmoil  subsides,  the  Leader  comes  forward. 

Leader.  [Antistr. 

Great  beacons  in  the  Argive  line 

Have  burned,  my  chief,  through  half  the  night. 
The  shipyard  timbers  seemed  to  shine. 

Then,  clear  against  the  light, 
Toward  Agamemnon's  tent  the  whole 
Army  in  tumult  seemed  to  roll, 
As  stirred  by  some  strange  voice,  shoal  after  shoal. 

A  night  of  such  discord 
Was  never  seen.    And  we,  in  dread 
What  such  things  boded,  turned  and  sped 

Hither ;  dost  blame  us,  Lord  ? 

Hector  {after  a  moment  of  thought). 

No!    Welcome,  friend,  with  all  thy  tale  of  fear! 
It  shows  they  mean  to  fly :  they  mean  to  clear 

5 


EURIPIDES  vv.  55-78 

Decks  in  the  dark  and  so  delude  my  sight   .    .    . 
I  like  that  beacon-burning  in  the  niglit. 

O  Zeus  above,  who  checked  my  conquering  way. 
Who  baulked  the  hungry  lion  of  his  prey 
Or  ever  I  could  sweep  my  country  clear 
Of  these  despoilers,  dost  thou  hate  my  spear? 
Had  but  the  sun's  bright  arrows  failed  me  not, 
I  ne'er  had  rested  till  the  ships  were  hot 
With  fire,  and  through  the  tents  upon  the  plain 
This  bloody  hand  had  passed  and  passed  again ! 
Myself,  I  longed  to  try  the  battle-cast 
By  night,  and  use  God's  vantage  to  the  last, 
But  sage  and  prophet,  learned  in  the  way 
Of  seercraft,  bade  me  wait  for  dawn  of  day. 
And  then — leave  no  Greek  living  in  the  land. 
They  wait  not,  they,  for  what  my  prophets  planned 
So  sagely.    In  the  dark  a  runaway 
Beats  a  pursuer. 

Through  our  whole  array 
Send  runners!    Bid  them  shake  off  sleep  and  wait 
Ready  with  shield  and  spear.     'Tis  not  too  late 
To  catch  them  as  they  climb  on  board,  and  slash 
Their  crouching  shoulders  till  the  gangways  splash 
With  blood,  or  teach  them,  fettered  leg  and  arm, 
To  dig  the  stiff  clods  of  some  Trojan  farm. 

Leader. 

My  Prince,  thy  words  run  fast.    Nor  thou  nor  I 
Have  knowledge  yet  that  the  Greeks  mean  to  fly. 

Hector. 

What    makes    them    light    their   beacons?      Tell   me, 
what? 

6 


vv.  79-90  RHESUS 

Leader. 
God  knows !    And,  for  my  part,  I  like  it  not. 

Hector. 

What,    feared?     Thou   vvouldst  be   feared  of   every- 
thing! 

Leader. 

They  never  lit  such  light  before,  O  King. 

Hector. 
They  never  fled,  man,  in  such  wild  dismay. 

Leader  (yielding). 
'Twas  all  thy  work. — Judge  thou,  and  we  obey. 

Hector. 

My  word  is  simple.    Arm  and  face  the  foe. 

\^A  sound  of  marching  without. 

Leader. 

Who  comes?    Aeneas,  and  in  haste,  as  though 
Fraught  with  some  sudden  tiding  of  the  night. 

Enter  Aeneas. 

Aeneas. 

Hector,  what  means  it?     Watchers  in  affright 
Who  gather  shouting  at  thy  doors,  and  then 
Hold  midnight  council,  shaking  all  our  men? 

Hector. 
To  arms,  Aeneas!    Arm  from  head  to  heel! 


EURIPIDES  vv.  91-109 

Aeneas. 

What  is  it?     Tidings?     Doth  the  Argive  steal 
Some  march,  some  ambush  in  the  day's  eclipse? 

Hector. 
'Tis  flight,  man!     They  are  marching  to  the  ships. 

Aeneas. 
How  know'st  thou? — Have  we  proof  that  it  is  flight? 

Hector. 

They  are  burning  beacon-fires  the  livelong  night. 
They  never  mean  to  wait  till  dawn.    Behind 
That  screen  of  light  they  are  climbing  in  the  blind 
Dark  to  their  ships — unmooring  from  our  coast. 

Aeneas  {looking  toward  the  distant  fires: 
after  a  pause). 

God  guide  them! — Why  then  do  you  arm  the  host? 

Hector. 

I  mean  to  lame  them  in  their  climbing,  I 
And  my  good  spear,  and  break  them  as  they  fly. 
Black  shame  it  were,  and  folly  worse  than  shame, 
To  let  these  spoilers  go  the  road  they  came 
Unpunished,  when  God  gives  them  to  us  here. 

Aeneas. 

Brother,  I  would  thy  wit  were  like  thy  spear! 
But  Nature  wills  not  one  man  should  be  wise 
In  all  things;  each  must  seek  his  separate  prize. 
And  thine  is  battle  pure.    There  comes  this  word 

8 


vv.  IIO-136  RHESUS 

Of  beacons,  on  the  touch  thy  soul  is  stirred: 
"  They  fly !    Out  horse  and  chariots !  "—Out  withal 
Past  stake  and  trench,  while  night  hangs  like  a  pall ! 
Say,  when  we  cross  that  coiling  depth  of  dyke, 
We  find  the  foe  not  fled,  but  turned  to  strike; 
One  check  there,  and  all  hope  of  good  return 
Is  gone.     How  can  our  men,  returning,  learn 
The  tricks  of  the  palisade?     The  chariots  how 
Keep  to  the  bridges  on  the  trenches'  brow. 
Save  with  jammed  wheels  and  broken  axles?    Aye, 
And  say  thou  conquer :  other  wars  yet  lie 
Before  thee.     Peleus'  son,  for  all  his  ire. 
Will  never  let  thee  touch  the  ships  with  fire 
Or  pounce  on  his  Greek  lambs.    The  man  will  bide 
No  wrong  and  standeth  on  a  tower  of  pride. 
Nay,  brother,  let  the  army,  head  on  shield. 
Sleep  off  its  long  day's  labour  in  the  field : 
Then,  send  a  spy ;  find  someone  who  will  dare 
Creep  to  yon  Argive  camp.     Then,  if  'tis  clear 
They  mean  flight,  on  and  smite  them  as  they  fly. 
Else,  if  the  beacons  hide  some  strategy. 
The  spy  will  read  it  out,  and  we  can  call 
A  council. — Thus  speak  I,  my  general. 

Chorus.  [Strophe. 

'Tis  good !     'Tis  wisdom !    Prince,  give  heed 
And  change  the  word  thy  passion  gave. 
No  soldier  loveth,  in  his  need, 
The  glory  of  a  chief  too  brave. 
A  spy  is  best:  a  spy,  to  learn 
For  what  strange  work  those  beacons  burn 
All  night  beside  the  guarded  wave. 

9 


EURIPIDES  vv.  137-157 

Hector. 

Ye  all  so  wish  it? — Well,  ye  conquer  me. 

{To  Aeneas)   Go  thou  and  calm  the  allies.     There 

will  be 
Some  stir  among  them,  hearing  of  these  high 
And  midnight  councils. — I  will  seek  the  spy 
To  send  to  the  Greek  camp.     If  there  we  learn 
Of  some  plot  hatching,  on  the  man's  return 
I  straight  will  call  thee  and  share  counsels.    So. 
But  wait  attentive.     If  he  says  they  go 
Shipward  and  plan  to  escape,  one  trumpet  call 
Shall  warn  thee,  and  I  wait  no  more,  but  fall 
On  camp  and  hulls,  or  ever  dawn  can  rise. 

Aeneas. 

Aye,  haste  and  send  him.    Now  thy  plans  are  wise, 
And   when   need    comes    I   am   with   thee,   sword   by 
sword.  [^Exit  Aenjas. 

Hector  {twning  to  the  Guards  and  other  soldiers). 

Ye  gathered  Trojans,  sharers  of  my  word. 
Who  dares  to  creep  through  the  Greek  lines  alone? 
Who  will  so  help  his  fatherland  ? 

Doth  none 
Offer?    Must  I  do  everything,  one  hand 
Alone,  to  save  our  allies  and  our  land? 

\^A  lean  dark  man  pushes  forward  from  the  back. 

DOLON. 

I,  Prince! — I  offer  for  our  City's  sake 
To  go  disguised  to  the  Greek  ships,  to  make 
Their  counsels  mine,  and  here  bring  word  to  thee. 
If  that  be  thy  full  service,  I  agree. 

ID 


vv.  158-171  RHESUS 

Hector. 

Dolon  the  Wolf!     A  wise  wolf  and  a  true! 
Thy  father's  house  was  praised  when  first  I  knew 
Troy:  this  shall  raise  it  twofold  in  our  eyes. 

Dolon. 

'Tis  wise  to  do  good  work,  but  also  wise 
To  pay  the  worker.     Aye,  and  fair  reward 
Makes  tw^ofold  pleasure,  though  the  work  be  hard. 

Hector. 

So  be  it :  an  honest  rule.    Do  thou  lay  down 
What  guerdon  likes  thee  best — short  of  my  crown. 

Dolon. 
I  care  not  for  thy  crowned  and  care-fraught  life. 

Hector. 
Wouldst  have  a  daughter  of  the  King  to  wife? 

Dolon. 
I  seek  no  mate  that  might  look  down  on  me. 

Hector. 
Good  gold  is  ready,  if  that  tempteth  thee. 

Dolon. 
We  live  at  ease  and  have  no  care  for  gold. 

Hector. 

Well,  Troy  hath  other  treasures  manifold. 

II 


EURIPIDES  vv.  173-183 

DOLON. 

Pay  me  not  now,  but  when  the  Greeks  are  ta'en. 

Hector. 
The  Greeks!  .   .   .  Choose  any  save  the  Atridae  twain. 

DOLON. 

Kill  both,  an  it  please  thee.    I  make  prayer  for  none. 

Hector. 
Thou  wilt  not  ask  for  Ajax,  Ileus'  son? 

DoLON. 
A  princely  hand  is  skilless  at  the  plough. 

Hector. 
'Tis  ransom,  then?  .   .   .  What  prisoner  cravest  thou? 

DoLON. 

I  said  before,  of  gold  we  have  our  fill. 

Hector. 
For  spoils  and  armour  .   .    .  thou  shalt  choose  at  will. 

DoLON. 

Nail  them  for  trophies  on  some  temple  wall. 

Hector. 
What  seeks  the  man  ?    What  prize  more  rich  than  all  ? 

DOLON. 

Achilles'  horses!  [Murmurs  of  surprise. 

Yes,  I  need  a  great 
Prize.     I  am  dicing  for  my  life  with  Fate. 

12 


vv.  I84-203  RHESUS 

Hector. 

'Fore  God,  I  am  thy  rival,  if  thy  love 

Lies  there.     Undying  was  the  breed  thereof, 

And  these  shall  never  die,  who  bear  to  war 

Great  Peleus'  son,  swift  gleaming  like  a  star. 

Poseidon,  rider  of  the  wild  sea-drift. 

Tamed  them,  men  say,  and  gave  them  for  his  gift 

To  Peleus. — None  the  less,  since  I  have  stirred 

Hopes,  I  will  baulk  them  not.    I  pledge  my  word, 

Achilles'  steeds,  a  rare  prize,  shall  be  thine. 

DOLON. 

I  thank  thee. — 'Tis  indeed  a  prize  more  fine 
Than  all  in  Troy. — Grudge  me  not  that ;  tliere  be 
Guerdons  abundant  for  a  Prince  like  thee. 

[Exit  Hector. 

Chorus.  [Antistr. 

O  peril  strange,  O  fearful  prize! 
Yet  win  it  and  thy  life  hath  wings: 
A  deed  of  glory  in  men's  eyes, 
A  greatness,  to  be  wooed  of  kings. 
If  God  but  hearken  to  the  right, 
Thou  drinkest  to  the  full  this  night 
The   cup  of   man's   imaginings. 

DOLON. 

[He  stands  wait'mg  a  moment  looking  out  into 
the  dark. 
There  lies  the  way. — But  first  I  must  go  find 
At  home  some  body-shelter  to  my  mind ; 
Then,  forward  to  the  ships  of  Argolis! 

13 


EURIPIDES*  vv.  204-223 

Leader. 
What  other  raiment  wilt  thou  need  than  this? 

DOLON. 

A  garb  for  work,  for  night;  a  thieving  guise. 

Leader. 

'Tis  good  to  learn  the  wisdoms  of  the  wise. 
What  will  thy  wrapping  be  ? 

DoLON. 

A  grey  wolf's  hide 
Shall  wrap  my  body  close  on  either  side; 
My  head  shall  be  the  mask  of  gleaming  teeth, 
My  arms  fit  in  the  forepaws,  like  a  sheath, 
My  thighs  in  the  hinder  parts.    No  Greek  shall  tell 
'Tis  not  a  wolf  that  walks,  half  visible. 
On  four  feet  by  the  trenches  and  around 
The  ship-screen.    When  it  comes  to  empty  ground 
It  stands  on  two. — That  is  the  plan,  my  friend! 

Leader. 

Now  Maian  Hermes  guide  thee  to  thy  end 

And  home  safe !    Well  he  loves  all  counterfeit    .    .    . 

Good  work  is  there ;  may  good  luck  go  with  it ! 

DoLON  {to himself , gazing  out  toward  the  Greek  camp). 

There,  and  then  back!  .   .  .  And  on  this  belt  shall  bleed 
Odysseus'  head — or  why  not  Diomede  ? — 
To  prove  my  truth.    Ere  dawn  can  touch  the  land 
I  shall  be  here,  and  blood  upon  my  hand. 

\^Exit  DoLON. 

14 


vv.  224-255  '       RHESUS 

Chorus. 

Thymbraean,  Delian,  Birth  divine, 
That  walkest  Lycia's  inmost  shrine, 

Come,  strong  to  guard,  to  guide,  to  follow, 
Come,  bow  in  hand  and  girt  with  night, 
To  help  thy  Dardans  as  of  old, 
When  stone  by  stone  thy  music  rolled — 
O  conquering  Strength,  O  Sire  Apollo ! — 
Young  Ilion  into  towers  of  light. 

Grant  that  he  reach  the  shipyard,  creep 
Keen-eyed  through  all  that  host  asleep, 
Then  back  to  home  and  hearth,  yet  living. 
Where  now  his  father  prays  alone: 
Yea,  grant  that,  when  the  Greeks  are  slain. 
Our  wolf  shall  mount  with  scourge  and  rein 
Those  coursers  of  the  sea-god's  giving. 
Whom  Peleus  drove  in  days  foregone. 


Alone  in  those  Greek  ships  to  stake 
His  life,  for  home  and  country's  sake: 

'Tis  wondrous!     Few  be  hearts  so  true 
When  seas  across  the  bulwark  break. 

And  sunlight  sickens  o'er  the  crew. 
Ah,  Phrygia  still  hath  hearts  of  rock! 
The  Phrygian  spear  flies  fast  and  far! 
Where  shall  ye  find  the  fool  to  mock 
Our  works  in  war? 

Whom  will  he  stab  a-sleeping,  whom, 
The  quick  grey  wolf,  the  crawling  doom? 
Grant  that  he  slay  the  Spartan!     Nay, 
15 


EURIPIDES  vv.  256-272 

Or  Agamemnon's  head  and  plume 
To  Helen  bear  at  dawn  of  day! 
A  lightsome  dawn  to  hear  her  wail 
Her  brother  sworn,  her  King  who  came 
To  Ilion  with  his  thousand  sail, 
And  swords,  and  flame! 

{^As  the  song  ends  DoLON  reappears,  in  the 
disguise  of  a  wolf.  The  Guards  gather 
round  him,  bidding  him  godspeed  as  he 
crawls  off  in  the  dark  towards  the  Greek 
camp.  Meantime  from  the  direction  of 
Mount  Ida  has  entered  a  Shepherd  who 
goes  to  Hector's  door  and  calls.  The 
Guards  seeing  him  return  to  their  places. 

Shepherd. 
Ho,  Master! 

[Enter  Hector  from  tent. 
I  would  it  ofttimes  were  my  luck  to  share 
As  goodly  news  with  thee  as  now  I  bear. 

Hector. 

What  dulness  hangs  about  these  shepherds!     Block, 
Com'st  thou  to  us  with  tidings  of  thy  flock 
Here  in  the  field  in  arms?    Who  wants  thee  here? 
Thou  know'st  my  house;   thou   know'st  my   father's. 

There 
Tell  all  about  thy  lucky  lambs. — Now  go. 

Shepherd. 

Dull  wits,  we  shepherds !    Aye,  'twas  alway  so. 
Yet  still,  there  is  some  good  news  to  be  told. 

16 


vv.  273-288  RHESUS 

Hector. 

A  truce  there  to  thy  gossip  of  the  fold ! 
Our  dealings  are  of  war,  of  sword  and  spear. 

IHe  turns  to  go. 

Shepherd. 

Aye;  so  were  mine.    That  is  what  brought  me  here. 

[Hector's  manner  changes. 
A  chief  comes  yonder,  leading  a  great  band 
Of  spears,  with  help  to  thee  and  all  the  land. 

Hector. 
From  whence?    How  do  his  name  and  lineage  run? 

Shepherd. 
He  comes  from  Thrace,  the  River  Strymon's  son. 

Hector. 
Rhesus!     Not  Rhesus,  here  on  Trojan  soil? 

Shepherd. 
Thou  hast  guessed.    That  eases  me  of  half  my  toil. 

Hector. 

What  makes  he  there  towards  Ida?    All  astray 
Thus  from  the  plain  and  the  broad  waggon-way! 

Shepherd. 

I  know  not  rightly,  though  one  well  may  guess. 
'Tis  hard  to  land  at  night,  with  such  a  press 
Of  spears,  on  a  strange  coast,  where  rumours  tell 
Of  foes  through  all  the  plain-land.    We  that  dwell 
On  Ida,  in  the  rock,  Troy's  ancient  root 

17 


EURIPIDES  vv.  289-316 

And    hearth-stone,   were    well    frighted,    through    the 

mute 
And  wolfish  thickets  thus  to  hear  him  break. 
A  great  and  rushing  noise  those  Thracians  make, 
Marching.     We,  all  astonied,  ran  to  drive 
Our    sheep    to    the    upmost    heights.       'Twas    some 

Argive, 
We  thought,  who  came  to  sweep  the  mountain  clear 
And  waste  thy  folds;  till  suddenly  our  ear 
Caught  at  their  speech,  and  knew  'twas  nothing  Greek. 
Then  all  our  terror  fled.     I  ran  to  seek 
Some  scout  or  pioneer  who  led  the  van 
And  called  in  Thracian :  "  Ho,  what  child  of  man 
Doth  lead  you?    From  what  nation  do  ye  bring 
This  host  with  aid  to  Ilion  and  her  king?  " 

He  told  mc  what  I  sought,  and  there  I  stood 
Watching;  and  saw  one  gleaming  like  a  God, 
Tall  in  the  darkness  on  a  Thracian  car. 
A  plate  of  red  gold  mated,  like  a  bar. 
His  coursers'  necks,  white,  white  as  fallen  snow. 
A  carven  targe,  with  golden  shapes  aglow. 
Hung  o'er  his  back.     Before  each  courser's  head 
A  Gorgon,  to  the  frontlet  riveted, 
With  bells  set  round — like  stories  that  they  tell 
Of  Pallas'  shield — made  music  terrible. 
The  numbers  of  that  host  no  pen  could  write 
Nor  reckon ;  'tis  a  multitudinous  sight. 
Long  lines  of  horsemen,  lines  of  targeteers, 
Archers  abundant;  and  behind  them  veers 
A  wavering  horde,  light-armed,  in  Thracian  weed. 

A  friend  is  come  to  Ilion  in  her  need 
'Gainst  whom  no  Argive,  let  him  fly  or  stand. 
Shall  aught  avail  nor  'scape  his  conquering  hand. 

18 


vv.  317-331  RHESUS 

Leader. 

Lo,  when  the  Gods  breathe  gently  o'er  a  town, 
All  runs  to  good,  as  water-streams  run  down. 

Hector  {bitterly). 

Aye,  when  my  spear  hath  fortune,  when  God  sends 
His  favour,  I  shall  find  abundant  friends. 
I  need  them  not ;  who  never  came  of  yore 
To  help  us,  when  we  rolled  to  death  before 
The  war-swell,  and  the  wind  had  ripped  our  sail. 
Then  Rhesus  taught  us  Trojans  what  avail 
His  words  are. — He  comes  early  to  the  feast; 
Where  was  he  when  the  hunters  met  ihe  beast? 
Where,  when  we  sank  beneath  the  Argive  spear  ? 

Leader. 

Well  may'st  thou  mock  and  blame  thy  friend.     Yet 

here 
He  comes  with  help  for  Troy.    Accept  him  thou. 

Hector. 
We  are  enough,  who  have  held  the  wall  till  now. 

Leader. 

Master,  dost  think  already  that  our  foe 
Is  ta'en  ? 

Hector. 
■     I  do.     To-morrow's  light  will  show. 
19 


EURIPIDES  vv.  332-345 

Leader. 
Have  care.     Fate  often  flings  a  backward  cast. 

Hector. 

I  hate  the  help  that  comes  when  need  is  past   .    .    . 
Howbeit,  once  come,  I  bid  him  welcome  here 
As  guest — not  war-friend ;  guest  to  share  our  cheer. 
The  thanks  are  lost,  he  might  have  won  from  us. 

Leader. 

My  general,  to  reject  an  ally  thus 
Must  needs  make  hatred. 

Shepherd. 

The  mere  sight  of  those 
I  saw  would  sure  cast  fear  upon  our  foes. 

Hector  (yielding  reluctantly,  with  a  laugh). 

Ah,  well ;  thy  words  are  prudent;  and  ( To  Shepherd) 

thine  eyes 
See  glorious  things.    With  all  these  panoplies 
Of  gold  that  filled  our  Shepherd's  heart  with  joy, 
Bid  Rhesus  welcome,  as  war-friend  to  Troy. 

[Exit  Shepherd;  Hector  returns  to  his  tent, 
amid  the  joy  of  the  soldiers. 

Chorus. 

Now  Adrasteia  be  near  and  guard 
Our  lips  from  sin,  lest  the  end  be  hard ! 
But  he  Cometh,  he  cometh,  the  Child  of  the  River! 
The  pride  of  my  heart  it  shall  roll  unbarred. 

20 


vv.  346-378  RHESUS 

We  craved  tliy  coming;  yea,  need  was  strong 
In  the  Hall  of  thy  lovers,  O  child  of  Song; 
Thy  mother  the  Muse  and  her  fair-bridged  River 
They  held  thee  from  us  so  long,  so  long! 

By  Strymon's  torrent  alone  she  sang. 
And  Strymon  shivered  and  coiled  and  sprang; 
And  her  arms  went  wide  to  the  wild  sweet  water, 
And  the  love  of  the  River  around  her  rang. 

We  hail  thee,  Fruit  of  the  River's  seed. 
Young  Zeus  of  the  Dawn,  on  thy  starry  steed ! 
O  ancient  City,  O  Ida's  daughter. 
Is  God  the  Deliverer  found  indeed? 

And  men  shall  tell  of  thee,  Ilion  mine. 
Once  more  a-harping  at  day's  decline, 
'Mid  laughing  of  lovers  and  lays  and  dances 
And  challenge  on  challenge  of  circling  wine? 

When  the  Greek  is  smitten  that  day  shall  be. 
And  fled  to  Argolis  over  the  sea: 
O  mighty  of  hand,  O  leader  of  lances. 
Smite  him,  and  heaven  be  good  to  thee! 

Tliou  Rider  golden  and  swift  and  sheer, 
Achilles  falters:  appear!  appear! 
The  car  like  flame  where  the  red  shield  leapeth. 
The  fell  white  steeds  and  the  burning  spear! 

No  Greek  shall  boast  he  hath  seen  thy  face 
And  danced  again   in  the  dancing  place; 
And  tlie  land  shall  laugh  for  the  sheaves  she  reapeth. 
Of  spoilers  dead  by  a  sword  from  Thrace. 

21 


EURIPIDES  vv.  379-395 

Enter  Rhesus  in  dazzling!;  ivhite  armour,  folloived  by 
his  Charioteer  and  Attendants.  The  Chari- 
oteer carries  his  golden  shield.  The  Chorus 
break  into  a  shout  of  "  All  Hail!  " 

Leader. 

All  hail,  great  King!    A  whelp  indeed 

Is  born  in  Thracia's  lion  fold, 
Whose  leap  shall  make  strong  cities  bleed. 

Behold  his  body  girt  with  gold, 
And  hark  the  pride  of  bells  along 

The  frontlet  of  that  targe's  hold. 

Chorus. 

A  God,  O  Troy,  a  God  and  more! 
'Tis  Ares'  self,  this  issue  strong 
Of  Strymon  and  the  Muse  of  song, 

Whose  breath  is  fragrant  on  thy  shore! 

Re-enter  Hector. 

Rhesus. 

Lord  Hector,  Prince  of  Ilion,  noble  son 
Of  noble  sires,  all  hail !    Long  years  have  run 
Since  last  we  greeted,  and  'tis  joy  this  day 
To  see  thy  fortunes  firm  and  thine  array 
Camped  at  the  foe's  gate.     Here  am  I  to  tame 
That  foe  for  thee,  and  wrap  his  ships  in  flame. 

Hector. 

Thou  child  of  Music  and  the  Thracian  flood, 
Strymonian  Rhesus,  truth  is  alway  good 
In  Hector's  eyes.     I  wear  no  double  heart. 

22 


vv.  396-421  RHESUS 

Long,  long  ago  thou  shouldst  have  borne  thy  part 
In  Ilion's  labours,  not  have  left  us  here, 
For  all  th}'  help,  to  sink  beneath  the  spear. 
Why  didst  thou — not  for  lack  of  need  made  plain ! — 
Not  come,  not  send,  not  think  of  us  again  ? 
What  grave  ambassadors  prayed  not  before 
Thy  throne,  what  herald  knelt  not  at  thy  door? 
What  pride  of  gifts  did  Troy  not  send  to  thee? 
And  thou,  a  lord  of  Barbary  even  as  we, 
Thou,  brother  of  our  blood,  like  one  at  sup 
Who  quaffs  his  fill  and  flings  away  the  cup, 
Hast  flung  to  the  Greeks  my  city!    Yet,  long  since, 
'Twas  I  that  found  thee  but  a  little  prince 
And  made  thee  mighty,  I  and  this  right  hand ; 
When  round  Pangaion  and  the  Paion's  land. 
Front  against  front,  I  burst  upon  the  brood 
Of  Thrace  and  broke  their  targes,  and  subdued 
Their  power  to  thine.     The  grace  whereof,  not  small. 
Thou  hast  spurned,  and  when  thy  kinsmen,  drowning, 

call, 
Comest  too  late.     Thou!    Others  there  have  been 
These  long  years,  not  by  nature  of  our  kin    .    .    . 
Some  under  yon  rough  barrows  thou  canst  see 
Lie  buried ;  they  were  true  to  Troy  and  me ; 
And  others,  yet  here  in  the  shielded  line 
Or  mid  the  chariots,  parching  in  the  shine 
Of  noonday,  starving  in  the  winds  that  bite 
Through  Ilion's  winter,  still  endure  and  fight 
On  at  my  side.    'Twas  not  their  way,  to  lie 
On  a  soft  couch  and,  while  the  cups  go  by, 
Pledge  my  good  health,  like  thee,  in  Thracian  wine. 

I  speak  as  a  free  man.     With  thee  and  thine 
Hector  is  wroth,  and  tells  thcc  to  thy  face. 

23 


EURIPIDES  vv.  422-448 

Rhesus. 
Thy  way  is  mine,  friend.    Straight  I  run  my  race 
In  word  and  deed,  and  bear  no  double  tongue. 

I  tell  thee,  more  than  thine  my  heart  was  wrung, 
Yea,  angered  past  all  durance,  thus  to  stay 
Back  from  thy  battles.    'Twas  a  folk  that  lay 
Hard  on  my  borders,  Scythians  of  the  north ; 
Just  when  my  host  for  Troy  had  started  forth, 
They  fell  upon  our  homes.     I  had  reached  the  coast 
Of  the  Friendless  Sea  and  purposed  to  have  crossed 
My  Thracians  there.     We  turned ;  and  all  that  plain 
Is  trampled  in  a  mire  of  Scythian  slain 
Ploughed  by  our  spears,  and  blood  of  Thrace  withal 
Not  stinted.    This  it  was  that  drowned  thy  call 
For  help  and  held  me  back  from  Ilion's  need. 
I  broke  their  power;  the  princes  of  their  breed 
I  took  to  hostage,  made  their  elders  swear 
To  bring  my  house  due  tribute,  year  by  year, 
Then,  never  lagging,  crossed  the  Pontus  mouth, 
Marched  by  long  stages  through  Bithynia  south 
And  here  am  come   .    .    .   not  drunken  with  the  feast, 
As  thou  wouldst  have  me  be,  not  lulled  to  rest 
In  golden  chambers.     In  this  harness  hard 
I  have  borne  my  nights  of  winter  storm  that  starred 
The  Euxine  into  ice  and  scared  the  strong 
Palonians. 

Long  I  have  been,  but  not  too  long 
To  save  thee  yet.    Friend,  this  is  the  tenth  year 
Thou  labourcst  on  unceasing,  with  no  clear 
Vantage;  day  creeps  by  day,  and  Ares  throws 
The  same  red  dice  for  thee  and  for  thy  foes. 
Now,  hear  my  vow.     Before  one  day's  eclipse 
I  swear  to  break  their  wall,  to  burn  their  ships 

24 


vv.  449-473  RHESUS 

And  slay  their  princes.     On  the  second  day 
I  leave  this  soil  and  take  my  homeward  way, 
Thy  pains  relieved.    No  Trojan  of  the  land 
Need  move,  nor  turn  the  buckler  in  his  hand. 
Alone  my  late-comers  will  turn  the  tide 
And  smite  your  Greeks,  for  all  their  bitter  pride. 

Chorus. 

[The  Trojan  soldiers,  who  have  been  listening  luith 
delight,  here  break  out  in  irrepressible  applause. 

All  hail! 

Sweet  words  and  faithful  heart ! 

Only  may  Zeus  avert 
From  those  proud  lips  the  Wrath  that  none  may  bear! 

Never  a  galleon  bore, 

Now,  nor  in  days  of  yore. 
Prince  like  to  thee,  so  valiant  and  so  fair. 

How  shall  Achilles,   how 

Shall  Ajax  bear  him  now. 
Or  face  thy  lance  ?     May  I  but  stand  that  day 

Watching  to  see  him  reel 

Broken  beneath  thy  steel. 
And  once  in  blood  his  many  murders  pay! 

Rhesus. 

Yea,  more  atonement  thou  shalt  take  from  me 
For  this  slow  help. — May  Adrasteia  see 
My  heart  and  pardon ! — When  we  two  have  set 
Troy  free  from  these  who  compass  her  with  hate. 
Soon  as  the  Gods  have  had  their  first-fruits,  I 
With  thee  will  sail — so  help  me  Zeus  on  high! — 
And  sack  all  Hellas  with  the  sword,  till  these 
Doers  of  deeds  shall  know  what  suffering  is. 

25 


EURIPIDES  vv.  474-491 

Hector. 

By  heaven,  could  I  once  see  this  peril  rolled 
Past  us,  and  live  in  Ilion  as  of  old, 
Untrembling,  I  would  thank  my  gods!     To  seek 
Argos  and  sack  the  cities  of  the  Greek — 
'Twere  not  such  light  work  as  thou  fanciest. 

Rhesus. 
These  Greeks  that  face  thee,  are  they  not  their  best? 

Hector. 
We  seek  not  better.    These  do  all  we  need. 

Rhesus. 
When  these  are  beaten,  then,  we  have  done  the  deed. 

Hector. 
Lose  not  thy  path  watching  a  distant  view. 

Rhesus. 
Thou  seem'st  content  to  suffer,  not  to  do? 

Hector. 
I  have  a  kingdom  large  by  mine  own  right.   .    .    . 

What  station  will  best  please  thee  in  this  fight 
To  ground  the  targe  and  stablish  thine  array? 
Right,  left,  or  midmost  in  the  allies?     Say. 

Rhesus. 

'Twould  please  me  best  to  fight  these  Greeks  alone. 
Yet,  if  't\\'ould  irk  thine  honour  not  to  have  thrown 
One  firebrand  on  the  ships  with  me,  w'hy,  then 
Set  us  to  face  Achilles  and  his  men. 

26 


vv.  492-509  RHESUS 

Hector. 

Achilles?    Nay,  his  spear  ye  cannot  meet. 

Rhesus. 
How  so?     Fame  said  he  sailed  here  with  the  fleet. 

Hector. 

He  sailed,  and  he  is  here.     But  some  despite 
'Gainst  the  great  King  now  keeps  him  from  the  fight. 

Rhesus. 
Who  next  to  him  hath  honour  in  their  host? 

Hector. 

Next,  to  my  seeming,  Ajax  hath  the  most. 

Or  Diomede. — But  Odysseus  is  a  tough 

And  subtle  fox,  and  brave ;  aye,  brave  enough. 

No  man  of  them  hath  harmed  us  more  than  he. 

He  climbed  here  to  Athena's  sanctuary 

One  night,  and  stole  her  image  clean  away 

To  the  Argive  ships.     Yes,  and  another  day, 

Guised  as  a  wandering  priest,  in  rags,  he  came 

And   walked  straight  through  the  Gates,  made  loud 

■  acclaim 
Of  curses  on  the  Greek,  spied  out  alone 
All  that  he  sought  in  Ilion,  and  was  gone — 
Gone,  and  the  watch  and  helpers  of  the  Gate 
Dead !     And  in  every  ambush  they  have  set 
By  the  old  Altar,  close  to  Troy,  we  know 
He  sits — a  murderous  reptile  of  a  foe! 

27 


EURIPIDES  vv.  510-529 

Rhesus. 

No  brave  man  seeks  so  dastardly  to  harm 
His  battle-foes;  he  meets  them  arm  to  arm. 
This  Greek  of  thine,  this  sitter  like  a  thief 
In  ambush,  I  will  make  of  him  my  chief 
Care.    I  will  take  him  living,  drive  a  straight 
Stake  through  him,  and  so  star  him  at  the  Gate 
To  feed  your  wide-winged  vultures.    'Tis  the  death 
Most  meet  for  a  lewd  thief,  who  pillageth 
God's  sanctuary,  or  so  we  hold   in  Thrace. 


Hector  {making  no  ansiuer). 

Seek  first  some  sleep.     There  still  remains  a  space 
Of  darkness. — I  will  show  the  spot  that  best 
May  suit  you,  somewhat  sundered  from  the  rest. 
Should  need  arise,  the  password  of  the  night 
Is  Phoebus:  see  your  Thracians  have  it  right. 

[Turning  to  the  Guards  before  he  goes. 
Advance  beyond  your  stations,  men,  at  some 
Distance,  and  stay  on  watch  till  Dolon  come 
With  word  of  the  Argives'  counsel.     If  his  vow 
Prosper,  he  should  be  nearing  us  by  now. 

\^Exeunt  Hector  and  Rhesus  and  Attend- 
ants. The  Guards,  who  have  been  below, 
come  forward  sleepily  from  the  camp  fire, 
and  sit  watching  by  Hector's  tent. 


Chorus. 

Say,  whose  is  the  watch  ?    Who  exchanges 
With  us?    The  first  planets  to  rise 
28 


vv.  530-545  RHESUS 

Are  setting ;  the  Pleiades  seven 
Move  low  on  the  margin  of  heaven, 
And  the  Eagle  is  risen  and  ranges 
The  mid-vault  of  the  skies. 

Another. 

No  sleeping  yet !     Up  from  your  couches 

And  watch  on,  the  sluggards  ye  are ! 
The  moon-maiden's  lamp  is  yet  burning. 

Third  Guard. 

Oh,  the  morning  is  near  us,  the  morning! 
Even  now  his  fore-runner  approaches, 
Yon   dim-shining   star. 

Divers  Guards   (talking). 
Who  drew  the  first  night-watch? 

Another. 


'Twas  one 


Koroibos,  called  the  Mygdon's  Son. 

The  Guard. 
And  after? 

The  Other. 

The  Mount  Taurus  men 
Had  second  watch:  from  them  again 
The  Mysians  took  it.    We  came  then. 

A  Guard. 

'Tis  surely  time.     Who  will  go  tell 
The  fifth  watch  ?    'Tis  the  Lycians'  spell 
By  now;  'twas  thus  the  portions  fell. 

29 


EURIPIDES  vv.  546-561 

Another. 

Nay,  hearken !    Again  she  is  crying 

Where  death-laden  Simois  falls, 
Of  the  face  of  dead  Itys  that  stunned  her, 
Of  grief  grown  to  music  and  wonder: 
Most  changeful  and  old  and  undying 

The  nightingale  calls. 

Another. 

And  on  Ida  the  shepherds  are  waking 

Their  flocks  for  the  upland.     I  hear 
The  skirl  of  a  pipe  very  distant. 

Another. 

And  sleep,  it  falls  slow  and  insistent. 
'Tis  perilous  sweet  when  the  breaking 
Of  dawn  is  so  near. 

Divers  Guards  (talking). 

Why  have  we  still  no  word  nor  sign 
Of  that  scout  in  the  Argive  line? 

Another. 
I  know  not ;  he  is  long  delayed. 

Another. 

God  send  he  trip  not  on  the  blade 
Of  some  Greek  in  an  ambuscade! 

Another. 

It  may  be.    I  am  half  afraid. 

30 


vv.  562-572  RHESUS 

Le.ader. 

Our  time  Is  past !     Up,  men,  and  tell 
The  fifth  watch.     'Tis  the  Lycians'  spell 
Now,  as  the  portions  fairly  fell. 

[The  Guards  pass  out  to  ivaken  the  Lycians. 
The  stage  is  empty  and  dark  except  for 
the  firelight,  luhen  a  whisper  is  heard 
at  the  back.  Presently  enter  Odysseus 
and  DiOMEDE  in  dull  leather  armour, 
DiOMEDE  carrying  at  his  belt  Dolon's 
wolf-skin  and  mask. 

Odysseus. 

Diomede,  hist! — A  little  sound  of  arms 
Clanking  ,.    .    .   or  am  I  full  of  void  alarms? 

DiOMEDE. 

No.    'Tis  some  horse  tied  to  the  chariot  rail 
That  clanks  his  chain. — My  heart  began  to  fail 
A  moment,  till  I  heard  the  horse's  champ. 

[They  steal  on  further,  keeping  in  the  shadow. 

Odysseus. 
Mind — in  that  shade — the  watchers  of  the  camp. 

DiOMEDE. 

I  keep  in  shadow,  but  I  am  staring  hard. 

Odysseus. 
Thou  know'st  the  watchword,  if  we  stir  some  guard? 

31 


EURIPIDES  vv.  573-584 

DiOMEDE. 

Phoebus.      'Twas  the  last  sip;n  that  Dolon  gave. 

l^They  creep  foriuard  in  silence  to  the  entrance 
of  Hector's  tent. 

Odysseus. 

Now,  forward ! 

[^They  dash  into  the  tent,  swords  drawn;  then 
return. 

God!    All  empty  as  the  grave! 

Diomede. 

Yet  Dolon  told  us  Hector's  couch  was  made 

Just  here.     For  none  but  him  I  drew  this  blade. 

Odysseus. 
What  means  it?     To  some  ambush  is  he  gone? 

Diomede. 
Maybe,  to  work  some  craft  on  us  at  dawn. 

Odysseus. 
He  is  hot  with  courage  when  he  is  winning,  hot. 

Diomede. 

What  must  we  do,  Odysseus? — He  was  not 

Laid  where  we  thought  him,  and  our  hopes  are  lost. 

Odysseus. 

Back  to  our  own  ship-rampart  at  all  cost! 
The  God  who  gave  him  victory  saves  him  still. 
We  cannot  force  Fortune  against  her  will. 

32 


vv.  585-598  RHESUS 

DiOMEDE. 

Could  we  not  find  Aeneas?    Or  the  bed 
Of  Paris  the  accurst,  and  have  his  head  ? 

Odysseus. 

Go  by  night  searching  through  these  lines  of  men 
For  chiefs  to  kill?     'Twere  death  and  death  again. 

DiOMEDE. 

But  to  go  empty  back — what  shame  'twill  be! — 
And  not  one  blow  struck  home  at  the  enemy! 

Odysseus. 

How  not  one  blow?    Did  we  not  baulk  and  kill 

Dolon,  their  spy,  and  bear  his  tokens  still? 

Dost  think  the  whole  camp  should  be  thine  to  quell  ? 

[DiOMEDE  takes  Dolon's  wolf-mask  off  his 

belt  and  hangs  it  in  Hector's  tent,  then 

turns. 

*  DiOMEDE. 

Good.     Now  for  home!     And  may  the  end  be  well! 
\^As  they  turn   there  appears  at  the   back   a 
luminous  and  gigantic  shape,  the  God- 
dess Athena. 

Athena. 

What  make  ye,  from  these  sleepers  thus  to  part 
Desponding  and  with  sorrow-wounded  heart 
If  Hector  be  not  granted  you  to  slay 
Nor  Paris?    Little  know  ye  what  great  stay 

33 


EURIPIDES  vv.  599-623 

Of  help  is  found  for  Troy.     This  very  night 
Rhesus  is  come ;  who,  if  he  see  the  h'ght 
Of  morning,  not  Achilles  nor  the  rack 
Of  Ajax'  spear  hath  power  to  hold  him  back, 
Ere  wall  and  gate  be  shattered  and  inside 
Your  camp  a  spear-swept  causeway  builded  wide 
To  where  beached  galleys  flame  above  the  dead. 
Him  slay,  and  all  is  won.     Let  Hector's  head 
Sleep  where  it  lies  and  draw  unvexed  breath; 
Another's  work,  not  thine,  is  Hector's  death. 

Odysseus. 

Most  high  Athena,  well  I  know  the  sound 
Of  that  immortal  voice.     'Tis  ever  found 
My  helper  in  great  perils. — Where  doth  lie 
Rhesus,  mid  all  this  host  of  Barbary? 

Athena. 

Full  near  he  lies,  not  mingled  with  the  host 
Of  Troy,  but  here  beyond  the  lines — a  post 
Of  quiet  till  the  dawn,  that  Hector  found. 
And  near  him,  by  his  Thracian  chariot  bound, 
Two  snow-white  coursers  gleam  against  the  wan 
Moon,  like  the  white  wing  of  a  river  swan. 
Their  master  slain,  take  these  to  thine  own  hearth, 
A  wondrous  spoil ;  there  hides  not  upon  earth 
A  chariot-team  of  war  so  swift  and  fair. 

Odysseus. 

Say,  Diomede,  wilt  make  the  men  thy  share. 
Or  catch  the  steeds  and  leave  the  fight  to  me? 

34 


vv.  624-638  RHESUS 

DiOMEDE. 

I  take  the  killing,  thou  the  stablery: 

It  needs  keen  wit  and  a  neat  hand.    The  post 

A  man  should  take  is  where  he  helpeth  most. 

Athena. 

Behold,  'tis  Paris,  hasting  there  toward 

This  tent,     Methinks  he  knoweth  from  the  guard 

Some  noise  of  prowling  Argives  hither  blown. 

DiOMEDE. 

Comes  he  alone  or  with  his  guards? 

Athena. 

Alone ; 
Toward  Hector's  quarters,  as  I  deem,  he  plies 
His  message.    He  hath  heard  some  tale  of  spies. 

DiOMEDE. 

Then  he  shall  be  the  first  dead  Trojan! 

Athena. 

No; 
Beyond  the  ordained  end  thou  canst  not  go. 
Fate  hath  not  willed  that  Paris  by  thy  deed 
Shall  die ;  it  is  another  who  must  bleed 
To-night.    Therefore  be  swift! 

\^Exeunt  Odysseus  and  Diomede. 
For  me,  my  guise 
Shall  melt  and  change  in  Alexander's  eyes. 
Yea,  till  he  dream  'tis  Cypris,  his  delight 
And  help  in  need,  that  meets  him  in  the  night, 

35 


EURIPIDES  vv.  639-658 

And  soft  shall  be  my  words  to  him  I  hate. 
So  speak  I ;  but  on  whom  my  spell  is  set 
He  hears  not,  sees  not,  though  so  near  I  stand. 

[She  becomes  invisible  where  she  stands. 

Enter  Paris. 

Paris. 

Ho,  Hector!    Brother!    General  of  the  land ! 
Sleepest  thou  still  ?    We  need  thy  waking  sight. 
Our  guards  have  marked  some  prowler  of  the  night. 
We  know  not  if  a  mere  thief  or  a  spy. 

[Athena  becomes  visible  again,  but  seems 
changed  and  her  voice  softer. 

Athena. 

Have  comfort  thou!     Doth  not  the  Cyprian's  eye 

Mark  all  thy  peril  and  keep  watch  above 

Thy  battles?    How  shall  I  forget  the  love 

I  owe  thee,  and  thy  faithful  offices? 

To  crown  this  day  and  all  its  victories, 

Lo,  I  have  guided  here  to  Troy  a  strong 

Helper,  the  scion  of  the  Muse  of  song 

And  Strymon's  flood,  the  crowned  stream  of  Thrace. 

Paris  {standing  like  one  in  a  dream). 

Indeed  thy  love  is  steadfast,  and  thy  grace 
Bounteous  to  Troy  and  me.     Thou  art  the  joy 
And  jewel  of  my  days,  which  I  to  Troy 
Have  brought,  and  made  thee  hers, — O  Cyprian, 
I  heard,  not  clearly, — 'twas  some  talk  that  ran 
Among  the  pickets — spies  had  passed  some  spot 
Close  by  the  camp.    The  men  who  saw  them  not 

36 


vv.  659-676  RHESUS 

Talk  much,  and  they  who  saw,  or  might  have  seen, 
Can  give  no  sign  nor  token.     It  had  been 
My  purpose  to  find  Hector  where  he  lay. 

Athena. 

Fear  nothing.     All  is  well  in  Troy's  array. 
Hector  is  gone  to  help  those  Thracians  sleep. 

Paris. 

Thy  word  doth  rule  me.  Goddess.    Yea,  so  deep 
My  trust  is,  that  all  thought  of  fear  is  lost 
In  comfort,  and  I  turn  me  to  my  post. 

Athena. 

Go.    And  remember  that  thy  fortunes  still 
Are  watched  by  me,  and  they  who  do  my  will 
Prosper  in  all  their  ways.     Aye,  thou  shalt  prove 
Ere  long,  if  I  can  care  for  those  I  love. 

lExit  Paris.     She  raises  her  voice. 
Back,  back,  ye  twain !    Are  ye  in  love  with  death  ? 
Laertes'  son,  thy  sword  into  the  sheath! 
Our  golden  Thracian  gaspeth  in  his  blood; 
The  steeds  are  ours;  the  foe  hath  understood 
And  crowds  against  you.     Haste  ye!  haste  to  fly, — 
Ere  yet  the  lightning  falleth,  and  ye  die! 

[Athena  vanishes;  a  noise  of  tumult  is  heard. 

Enter  a  croivd  of  Thracians  running  in  confusion,  in 
the  midst  of  them  Odysseus  and  Diomede. 

Voices  {amid  the  tumult). 

Ha!  Ha! — At  them!    At  them!    After  them!     Down 
with  them ! — Where  are  they  ? 

37 


EURIPIDES  vv.  677-685 

Captain. 
Who  Is  that  fellow?     Look!     That  yonder! 

A  Man. 

Rascal  thieves,  the  sort  that  crawl 
And  vex  an  army  in  the  dark! 

Captain. 

Ho,  this  way !    Follow !    This  way  all ! 
IThey  pursue  Odysseus  and  DiOMEDE;  catch 
them  and  bring  them  back. 

A  Man. 

I  have  them !    I  have  caught  them ! 

Captain  (to  Odysseus). 

Whence  comest  thou?     What  art  thou?     Say;  what 
captain  and  what  company? 

Odysseus  (indignantly). 

'Tis  not  for  thee  to  know.     This  day  thou  diest  for 
thy  knavery! 

Captain. 

Stop!     Give  the  watchword  quick,  before  I  have  thy 
body  on  my  pike. 

Odysseus  (in  a  tone  of  authority). 
Halt  every  man  and  have  no  fear! 

Captain. 

Come,  gather  round.     Be  quick  to  strike. 
38 


vv.  686-689  RHESUS 

Odysseus  {to  Captain). 
'Twas  thou  that  killed  King  Rhesus! 

Captain, 

No:  'tis  I  that  kill  the  man  that  killed   .    .    . 
\_Flies  at  Odysseus,  but  other  men  hold  him  back. 

Odysseus. 
Holdback  all! 

Voices. 
No  more  holding  back! 

Odysseus  {as  they  attack  him). 

What,  strike  an  ally  in  the  field  ? 

Captain. 
Then  give  the  watchword ! 

Odysseus. 

Phoebus. 

Captain. 

Right.    Ho,  every  man  hold  back  his  spear! — 
Then  know'st  thou  where  the  men  are  gone? 

Odysseus. 

We  saw  them  running,  somewhere  here. 
\^He  makes  off  into  the  darkness.     DiOMEDE 
follows,  and  some  Thracians. 
39 


EURIPIDES  vv.  690-703 

Captain. 
Off  every  one  upon  their  track! 

A  Man. 
Or  should  we  rouse  the  army? 

Captain. 

No; 
To  stir  the  allies  in  the  night  and  make  more  panic! 
Let  us  go. 

[77/t'  Thracians  go  off  in  pursuit.  Meantime 
the  original  Guards  ivlio  form  the  Chorus 
have  hastened  back.  The  two  Greeks  are 
presently  seen  crossing  at  the  back  in  a 
different  direction. 

Chorus. 

Who  was  the  man  that  passed? 

Who,  that,  so  madly  bold, 
Even  as  I  held  him  fast, 

Laughed,  and  I  loosed  my  hold? 
Where  shall  I  find  him  now? 

What  shall  I  deem  of  him, 
To  steal  thro'  the  guards  a-row, 

Quaking  not,  eye  nor  limb, 

On  thro'  the  starlight  dim? 
Is  he  of  Thessaly, 
Born  by  the  Locrian  sea, 
Or  harvester  of  some  starved  island's  corn  ? 
What  man  hath  seen  his  face? 
What  was  his  name  or  race, 
What  the  high  God  by  whom  his  sires  have  sworn? 

40 


vv.  704-724  RHESUS 

Divers  Guards  (talking). 

This  night  must  be  Odysseus'  work,  or  whose  ?- 
Odysseus?    Aye,  to  judge  by  ancient  use. — 
Odysseus  surely! — That  is  thy  belief? — 
What  else?    It  seems  he  hath  no  fear 
Of  such  as  we! — Whom  praise  ye  there? 
Whose  prowess?     Say! — Odysseus. — Nay, 
Praise  not  the  secret  stabbing  of  a  thief! 


Chorus. 

He  came  once,  of  old, 

Up  thro'  the  city  throng, 

Foam  on  his  lips,  a-cold. 

Huddled  in  rags  that  hung 

Covering  just  the  sword 
Hid  in  his  mantle's  pleat; 

His  face  grimed  and  scored, 
A  priest  of  wandering  feet. 
Who  begged  his  bread  in  the  street. 

Many  and  evil  things 

He  cast  on  the  brother  kings 
Like  one  long  hurt,  who  nurseth  anger  sore ; 

Would  that  a  curse,  yea,  would 

The  uttermost  wrath  of  God 
Had  held  those  feet  from  walking  Ilion's  shore  1 


Divers  Guards  (talking). 

Odysseus  or  another,   'tis  tlie   guard 
Will  weep  for  this.    Aye,  Hector  will  be  hard. — 
What  will  he  say? — He  will  suspect. — Suspect? 

41 


EURIPIDES  vv.  725-737 

What  evil?     What  should  make  you  fear? — 
'Twas  we  that  left  a  passage  clear. — 
A  passage? — Yea,  for  these  men's  way, 
Who  came  by  night  into  the  lines  unchecked. 

[^  sound  of  moaning  outside  in  the  darkness, 
which  has  been  heard  during  the  last  few 
lines,  now  grows  into  articulate  words. 

Voice. 

Woe,  woe! 

The  burden  of  the  wrath  of  fate! 

Guards. 

Ha,  listen!    Wait. 

Crouch  on  the  ground ;  it  may  be  yet 

Our  man  is  drawing  to  the  net. 

Voice. 

Woe,  woe! 

The  burden  of  the  hills  of  Thrace! 

Leader. 
An  ally?    None  of  Hellene  race. 

Voice. 

Woe,  woe! 

Yea,  woe  to  me  and  woe  to  thee, 
My  master!    Once  to  set  thine  eye 
On  Ilion  the  accurst,  and  die! 

Leader  {calling  aloud). 

Ho  there!    What  ally  passes?    The  dim  night 
Blurreth  mine  eyes;  I  cannot  see  thee  right. 

42 


vv.  738-756  RHESUS 

Voice. 

Ho,  some  one  of  the  Trojan  name! 
Where  sleeps  your  king  beneath  his  shield, 
Hector?     What  marshal  of  the  field 
Will  hear  our  tale   .    .    .   the  men  who  came 
And  struck  us  and  were  gone ;  and  we, 
We  w^oke  and  there  was  nought  to  see. 
But  our  own  misery. 

Leader. 

I  cannot  hear  him  right;  it  sounds  as  if 
The  Thracians  were  surprised  or  in  some  grief. 

l^There  enters  a  wounded  man,  walking  with 

difficulty;  he  is  the  Thracian  Charioteer 

who  came  with  Rhesus. 

Thracian. 

The  army  lost  and  the  king  slain. 

Stabbed  in  the  dark!    Ah,  pain!  pain! 

This  deep  raw  wound   .    .    .   Oh,  let  me  die 

By  thy  side,  Master,  by  thy  side! 

In  shame  together  let  us  lie 

Who  came  to  save,  and  failed  and  died. 

Leader. 

This  needs  no  surmise:  'tis  disaster  plain 
That  comes.    He  speaketh  of  some  ally  slain. 

Thracian. 

Disaster,  yea:  and  with  disaster  shame. 
Which  lights  Disaster  to  a  twofold  flame 

43 


EURIPIDES  vv.  757-787 

Of  evil.     For  to  die  in  soldier's  wise, 

Since  die  we  needs  must   .    .    .   though  the  man  who 

dies 
Hath  pain    ...    to  all  his  house  'tis  praise  and  pride ; 
But  we,  like  laggards  and  like  fools  we  died ! 

When  Hector's  hand  had  showed  us  where  to  rest 
And  told  the  watchword,  down  we  lay,  oppressed 
With  weariness  of  that  long  march,  and  slept 
Just  as  we  fell.     No  further  watch  was  kept, 
Our  arms  not  laid  beside  us;  by  the  horse 
No  yoke  nor  harness  ordered.     Hector's  force 
Had  victory,  so  my  master  heard,  and  lay 
Secure,  just  waiting  for  the  dawn  of  day 
To  attack.     So  thought  we  all,  and  our  lines  broke 
And  slept.    After  a  little  time  I  woke, 
Thinking  about  my  horses,  that  the  morn 
Must  see  them  yoked  for  war.     I  found  the  corn 
And  gave  them  plenteously.    Then  in  the  deep 
Shadow  I  saw  two  men  who  seemed  to  creep 
Close  by  our  line,  but  swiftly,  as  I  stirred. 
Crouched  and  were  seeking  to  make  off  unheard. 
I  shouted  then,  and  bade  them  keep  away: 
Two  thieves,  I  thought,  from  the  great  host  that  lay 
Round  us.    They  never  answered,  and,  for  me, 
I  said  no  more  but  turned  and  presently 
Was  sleeping.     In  my  sleep  there  came  a  dream. 
I  seemed  to  see  the  horses — mine  own  team 
I  had  trained  long  since  and  drove  at  Rhesus'  side — 
But    wolves    were    on    their   backs,    wolves,    couched 

astride, 
Who  drove  and  scourged ;  I  saw  the  horses  rear 
And  stagger  with  wide  nostrils,  stiff  with  fear, 
And,  starting  up  to  drive  the  beasts  away, 

44 


vv.  788-809  RHESUS 

I  woke. — A  terror  of  great  darkness  lay 
About  me,  but  I  lifted  up  my  head 
And  listened.     There  was  moaning,  like  the  dead 
That  moan  at  night,  and  over  me  there  flowed, 
So  soft,  so  warm — it  was  my  master's  blood. 
Who  writhed  beside  me,  dying!    With  a  bound 
I  sprang  up,  empty-handed,  groping  round 
For  spear  or  sword,  when,  lo,  a  young  strong  man 
Was  close  to  me  and  slashed,  and  the  sword  ran 
Deep  through  my  flank.     I  felt  its  passage  well. 
So  deep,  so  wide,  so  spreading   .    .    .   then  I  fell. 
And  they,  they  got  the  bridles  in  their  hand 
And    fled.   ...   Ah!     Ah!      This   pain.      I    cannot 
stand. 

[The  Guards  catch  him  as  he  reels,  and  lay 
him  on  the  ground. 
I  know,  I  saw,  thus  much.     But  why  or  how 
Those  dead  men  went  to  death  I  cannot  know, 
Nor  by  whose  work.    But  this  I  say ;  God  send 
'Tis  not  foul  wrong  wrought  on  us  by  a  friend. 

Leader. 

Good  charioteer  of  that  ill-fortuned  king, 
Suspect  us  not.     'Tis  Greeks  have  done  this  thing. 
But  yonder  Hector  comes.     He  hath  been  shown 
The  foul  deed,  and  thy  sorrows  are  his  own. 

Enter  Hector  in  wrath,  with  a  band  of  Guards. 

Hector. 

Ye  workers  of  amazement!    Have  your  eyes 
No  sight?     Ye  watch  and  let  these  Argive  spies 

45 


EURIPIDES  vv.  810-834 

Pass — and  our  friends  are  butchered  in  their  sleep — 
And  then  pass  back  unwounded,  laughing  deep 
Amid  the  galleys  at  the  news  they  bring 
Of  Trojan  sluggards  and  the  fool  their  king? 
Great  God,  ye  never  baulked  them  as  they  came, 
Nor  smote  them  as  they  went! 

[His  eye  falls  on  the  Captain. 
Who  bears  the  blame 
Of  this  but  thou  ?    Thou  wast  the  watcher  set 
To  guard  this  host  till  morn.     I  tell  thee  3'et 
For  this  deed — I  have  sworn  by  Zeus  our  Lord ! — 
The  scourge  of  torment  or  the  headsman's  sword 
Awaits  thee.     Else,  be  Hector  in  your  thought 
Writ  down  a  babbler  and  a  man  of  nought. 

Leader  (grovelling  before  Hector). 

Woe,  woe!     It  was  for  thee,  only  for  thee, 
I  must  have  gone,  O  Help  and  Majesty, 
That  time  with  message  that  the  fires  were  burning. 
Mine  eye  was  keen ;  I  swear  by  Simois  river. 
It  never  drooped  nor  slumbered,  never,  never, 

From  eve  till  morning! 
My  master,  verily,  I  am  innocent  utterly. 
Build  not  such  wrath  against  me,  Lord,  nor  harden 
Thy  heart;  let  Time  be  judge;  and  If  in  deed 
Or  word  I  have  offended,  let  me  bleed! 
Bury  me  here  alive!     I  ask  no  pardon. 

[Hector  is  standing  over  him  ready  to  strike 
when  the  CHARIOTEER  speaks. 

Thracian. 

Why  threaten  them  ?    Art  thou  a  Greek  to  blind 
My  barbarous  wit  so  nimbly,  in  a  wind 

46 


vv.  835-861  RHESUS 

Of  words?    This  work  was  thine.    And  no  man's  head 
Is  asked  by  us,  the  wounded  and  the  dead, 
Save  thine.    It  needs  more  play,  and  better  feigned. 
To  hide  from  me  that  thou  hast  slain  thy  friend 
By  craft,  to  steal  his  horses. — That  is  why 
He  stabs  his  friends.     He  prays  them  earnestly, 
Prays  them  to  come ;  they  came  and  they  are  dead. 
A  cleaner  man  \\as  Paris,  when  he  fled 
With  his  host's  wife.     He  was  no  murderer. 
Profess  not  thou  that  any  Greek  was  there 
To  fall  on  us.    What  Greek  could  pass  the  screen 
Of  Trojan  posts  in  front  of  us,  unseen? 
Thyself  was  stationed  there,  and  all  thy  men. 
What  man  of  yours  was  slain  or  wounded  when 
Your  Greek  spies  came?    Not  one;  'tis  we,  behind, 
Are  wounded,  and  some  worse  than  wounded,  blind 
Forever  to  the  sunlight.    When  we  seek 
Our  vengeance,  we  shall  go  not  to  the  Greek. 
What  stranger  in  that  darkness  could  have  trod 
Straight  to  where  Rhesus  lay — unless  some  God 
Pointed  his  path  ?    They  knew  not,  whispered  not, 
Rhesus  had  ever  come.    .    .    .    'Tis  all  a  plot. 


Hector   {steadied  and  courteous  again). 

Good  allies  I  have  had  since  first  the  Greek 
Set  foot  in  Troy,  and  never  heard  them  speak 
Complaint  of  Hector.    Thou  wilt  be  the  first. 
I  have  not,  by  God's  mercy,  such  a  thirst 
For  horses  as  to  murder  for  their  sake. 

\^He  turns  to  his  oivn  men. 
Odysseus!     Yet  again  Odysseus!     Take 
All  the  Greek  armies,  is  there  one  but  he 

47 


EURIPIDES  vv.  862-876 

Could  have  devised,  or  dared,  this  devilry? 
I  fear  him;  yea,  fear  in  mine  own  despite, 
Lest  Dolon  may  have  crossed  him  in  the  night 
And  perished ;  'tis  so  long  he  cometh  not. 

Thracian. 

I  know  not  who  Odysseus  is,  nor  what. 
I  know  it  was  no  Greek  that  wounded  us. 

Hector. 
To  think  thus  pleasures  thee  ?    Well,  have  it  thus. 

Thracian. 
Home,  home!    To  die  at  home  and  rest  my  head! 

Hector. 
Nay,  die  not,  friend.    We  have  enough  of  dead. 

Thracian. 
How  can  I  live?     Lost,  and  my  master  slain. 

Hector. 
My  house  will  shelter  thee  and  heal  thy  pain. 

Thracian. 
Thy  house?    Will  murderers'  nursing  give  me  peace? 

Hector. 
Still  the  same  tale!     This  man  will  never  cease. 

Thracian. 

My  curse  rest — not  on  Hector,  but  on  those 
Who  stabbed  us,  as  thou  say'st. — Ah,  Justice  knows! 

48 


vv.  877-891  RHESUS 

Hector. 

There,  lift  him. — Bear  him  to  my  house.    Take  pains, 

If  care  can  do  it,  that  the  man  complains 

No  more  of  Troy. — Ye  others,  bear  withal 

To  Priam  and  the  Elders  of  the  Wall 

My  charge,  that,  where  the  cart-road  from  the  plain 

Branches,  they  make  due  burial  for  our  slain. 

10 ne  party  of  Guards  lifts  carefully  the 
wounded  Thracian  and  goes  off  bear- 
ing him:  another  departs  with  the  mes- 
sage to  Troy. 

Chorus. 

Back  from  the  heights  of  happiness, 
Back,  back,  to  labour  and  distress 
Some  god  that  is  not  ours  doth  lead 
Troy  and  her  sons ;  He  sows  the  seed, 
Who  knows  the  reaping? 
[In  the  air  at  the  back  there  appears  a  Vision 
of  the  Muse  holding  the  body  of  her  dead 
son  Rhesus. 
Ah!    Ah! 
My  king,  what  cometh?    There  appears 
Some  Spirit,  like  a  mist  of  tears; 
And  in  her  arms  a  man  lieth, 
So  young,  so  wearied  unto  death ; 
To  see  such  vision  presageth 

Wrath  and  great  weeping. 
[The  Guards  hide  their  heads  in  their  mantles. 

Muse. 
Nay,  look  your  fill,  ye  Trojans.     It  is  I, 
The  many-sistered  Muse,  of  worship  high 

49 


EURIPIDES  vv.  892-914 

In  wise  men's  hearts,  who  come  to  mourn  mine  own 
Most  pitifully  loved,  most  injured,  son. 
For  whose  shed  blood  Odysseus  yet  shall  pay 
Vengeance,  who  crawled  and  stabbed  him  where  he 
lay. 

With  a  dirge  of  the  Thracian  mountains, 
I  mourn  for  thee,  O  my  son. 
For  a  mother's  weeping,  for  a  galley's  launching,  for 

the  way  to  Troy ; 
A  sad  going,  and  watched  by  spirits  of  evil. 
His  mother  chid  him  to  stay,  but  he  rose  and  went. 
His    father   besought    him    to   stay,    but    he   went    in 
anger. 
Ah,  woe  is  me  for  thee,  thou  dear  face, 
My  beloved  and  my  son ! 

Leader. 

Goddess,  if  tears  for  such  as  thee  may  run 
In  our  low  eyes,  I  weep  for  thy  dead  son. 

Muse. 

I  say  to  thee:  Curse  Odysseus, 
And  cursed  be  Diomede! 
For  they  made  me  childless,  and  forlorn  for  ever,  of 

the  flower  of  sons. 
Yea,  curse  Helen,  who  left  the  houses  of  Hellas. 
She  knew  her  lover,  she  feared  not  the  ships  and  sea. 
She   called   thee,   called   thee,   to  die   for  the  sake  of 
Paris, 
Beloved,  and  a  thousand  cities 

She  made  empty  of  good  men. 
50 


vv.  915-941  RHESUS 

0  conquered  Thamyris,  is  this  thy  bane 
Returned  from  death  to  pierce  my  heart  again? 
Thy  pride  it  was,  and  bitter  challenge  cast 
'Gainst  all  the  Muses,  did  my  flesh  abase 

To  bearing  of  this  Child,  what  time  I  passed 
Through  the  deep  stream  and   looked   on   Strymon's 

face, 
And  felt  his  great  arms  clasp  me,  when  to  old 
Pangaion  and  the  earth  of  hoarded  gold 
We  Sisters  came  with  lutes  and  psalteries. 
Provoked  to  meet  in  bitter  strife  of  song 
That  mountain  wizard,  and  made  dark  the  eyes 
Of  Thamyris,  who  wrought  sweet  music  wrong. 

1  bore  thee,  Child ;  and  then,  in  shame  before 
My  sisterhood,  my  dear  virginity, 

I  stood  again  upon  thy  Father's  shore 
And  cast  thee  to  the  deeps  of  him;  and  he 
Received  and  to  no  mortal  nursing  gave 
His  child,  but  to  the  Maidens  of  the  Wave. 
And  well  they  nursed  thee,  and  a  king  thou  wast 
And  first  of  Thrace  in  war;  yea,  far  and  near 
Through  thine  own  hills  thy  bloody  chariot  passed. 
Thy  battered  helm  flashed,  and  I  had  no  fear; 
Only  to  Troy  I  charged  thee  not  to  go : 
I  knew  the  fated  end :  but  Hector's  cry, 
Borne  overseas  by  embassies  of  woe. 
Called  thee  to  battle  for  thy  friends  and  die. 

And  thou,  Athena — nothing  was  the  deed 
Odysseus  wrought  this  night  nor  Diomede — 
'Tis  thine,  all  thine;  dream  not  thy  cruel  hand 
Is  hid  from  me!     Yet  ever  on  thy  land 
The  Muse  hath  smiled ;  we  gave  it  praise  above 

51 


EURIPIDES  vv.  942-963 

All  cities,  yea,  fulfilled  it  with  our  love. 
The  light  of  thy  great  Mysteries  was  shed 
By  Orpheus,  very  cousin  of  this  dead 
Whom  thou  hast  slain ;  and  thine  high  citizen 
Musaeus,  wisest  of  the  tribes  of  men, 
We  and  Apollo  guided  all  his  way: 
For  which  long  love  behold  the  gift  ye  pay! 
I  wreathe  him  in  my  arms ;  I  wail  his  wrong 
Alone,  and  ask  no  other  mourner's  song. 

[She  weeps  over  Rhesus. 

Leader. 

Hector,  thou  hearest.    We  were  guiltless  here, 
And  falsely  spake  that  Thracian  charioteer. 

Hector. 

Always  I  knew  it.     Had  we  any  need 
Of  seers  to  tell  this  was  Odysseus'  deed? 

For  me,  what  could  I  else,  when  I  beheld 
The  hosts  of  Argos  camped  upon  this  field, 
What  but  with  prayers  and  heralds  bid  my  friend 
Come  forth  and  fight  for  Ilion  ere  the  end? 
He  owed  me  that. — Yet,  now  my  friend  is  slain. 
His  sorrow  is  my  sorrow.     On  this  plain 
I  will  uplift  a  wondrous  sepulchre. 
And  burn  about  it  gifts  beyond  compare 
Of  robes  and  frankincense.     To  Troy's  relief 
He  came  in  love  and  parteth  in  great  grief. 

Muse. 

My  son  shall  not  be  laid  In  any  grave 
Of  darkness;  thus  much  guerdon  will  I  crave 

52 


vv.  964-985  RHESUS 

Of  Death's  eternal  bride,  the  heavenly-born 
Maid  of  Demeter,  Life  of  fruits  and  corn, 
To  set  this  one  soul  free.     She  owes  me  yet, 
For  Orpheus  widowed,  an  abiding  debt. 

To  me  he  still  must  be — that  know  I  well — 
As  one  in  death,  who  sees  not.     Where  I  dwell 
He  must  not  come,  nor  see  his  mother's  face. 
Alone  for  ever,  in  a  caverned  place 
Of  silver-veined  earth,  hid  from  men's  sight, 
A  Man  yet  Spirit,  he  shall  live  in  light: 
As  under  far  Pangaion  Orpheus  lies. 
Priest  of  great  light  and  worshipped  of  the  wise. 

Howbeit  an  easier  anguish  even  to  me 
Falls  than  to  Thetis  in  her  azure  sea; 
For  her  son  too  shall  die;  and  sorrowing, 
First  on  the  hills  our  band  for  thee  shall  sing. 
Then  for  Achilles  by  the  weeping  wave. 
Pallas  could  murder  thee,  but  shall  not  save 
Thy  foe;  too  swift  Apollo's  bolt  shall  fly. 

O  fleshly  loves  of  sad  mortality, 
O  bitter  motherhood  of  these  that  die, 
She  that  hath  wisdom  will  endure  her  doom, 
The  days  of  emptiness,  the  fruitless  womb ; 
Not  love,  not  bear  love's  children  to  the  tomb. 

IT  he  Vision  rises  through  the  air  and  vanishes. 


Leader. 

The  dead  man  sleepeth  in  his  mother's  care; 
But  we  who  battle  still — behold,  the  glare 
Of  dawn  that  rises.     Doth  thy  purpose  hold, 
Hector,  our  arms  are  ready  as  of  old. 

53 


EURIPIDES  vv.  986  996 

Hector. 

March  on ;  and  bid  the  allies  witli  all  speed 
Be  armed,  bind  fast  the  yoke  upon  the  steed, 
Then  wait  with  torches  burning,  till  we  sound 
The  Tuscan  trump. — This  day  we  shall  confound, 
God  tells  me,  their  Greek  phalanx,  break  their  high 
Rampart  and  fire  the  galleys  where  they  lie. 

[Pointing  to  the  dawn. 
Yon  first  red  arrow  of  the  Sun,  that  brings 
The  dawn  to  Troy,  hath  freedom  on  his  wings. 

During  the  following  lines  Hector  goes  to  his  tent  to 
get  his  shield,  and  as  he  enters  sees  Dolon's 
bloody  wolf-skin  hanging.  He  takes  it,  looks  at 
it,  and  throws  it  down  without  a  word.  Then 
he  puts  on  his  helmet,  takes  his  shield  and  spear, 
and  follows  the  Guards  as  they  march  off. 

Chorus. 

The  Chief  hath  spoken:  let  his  will 
Be  law,  ye  Trojans. — Raise  the  cry 

To  Arms!  To  Arms!  and  down  the  line 

Of  allies  pass  the  battle-sign. 

The  God  of  Ilion  liveth  still; 

And  men  may  conquer  ere  they  die. 

[Exeunt. 


54 


EOS,    THE    DAWN    GODDESS,    RAISING    HER    SLAIN    SON 


NOTES 

The  play  presupposes  a  knowledge  of  the  Iliad  in 
some  form,  if  not  exactly  in  the  form  which  it  now 
wears.  We  are  not  only  supposed  to  know  that 
Hector,  son  of  Priam,  leads  the  Trojans  and  their 
allies  ("Trojans,  and  Lycians,  and  Dardans  bold": 
in  tragedy  they  are  also  called  Phrygians)  in  defence 
against  the  Greeks — Argives,  Achaeans,  Hellenes — 
under  Agamemnon,  king  of  men,  and  his  brother 
Menelaiis,  husband  of  Helen.  This  sort  of  sup- 
position is  usual  in  all  Greek  tragedy.  It  merely 
means  that  the  poet  takes  for  granted  the  main  out- 
lines of  the  heroic  saga.  But  in  this  play  we  are  also 
supposed  to  take  up  the  story  as  it  stands  at  the 
opening  of  the  Doloneia  or  Tenth  Book  of  the  Iliad. 
Indeed  one  might  almost  say  that  the  Rhesus  is 
simply  the  Doloneia  turned  into  drama  and  set  in 
the  Trojan  camp.  The  only  other  play  that  is  taken 
straight  from  Homer  is  the  Satyr-play,  Cyclops,  which 
tells  the  story  of  Odyssey  IX.,  but  it  is  likely  enough 
that  if  we  possessed  more  of  the  earlier  epic  litera- 
ture we  should  find  many  other  plays  closely  hugging 
their  traditional  sources. — The  Trojans  are  camping 
out  on  the  field  of  battle,  close  to  the  Greek  lines. 
Hector,  always  ready  for  danger,  seems  to  have  his 
tent  or  log-hut  set  up  quite  in  the  van,  just  behind 
the  outposts.     In   11.   X.  415  ff.  he  is  holding  counsel 

55 


EURIPIDES 

with  the  other  chieftains  "  awaj'  from  the  throng"; 
the  allies  are  taking  their  sleep  and  trusting  to  the 
Trojans,  who  keep  awake  in  groups  round  the  camp 
fires;  no  watchword  is  mentioned. 

P.  5,  1.  30,  The  priest.] — He  would  be  needed  to 
make  the  sacrifice  before  battle. 

P.  5,  1.  36,  The  lash  of  trembling  Pan.] — i.e.,  a 
panic. 

P.  5,  1.  41,  Great  beacons  in  the  Argive  line.] — 
In  the  Iliad  it  is  the  Trojan  watch-fires  that  are 
specially  mentioned,  especially  VIII.  553-end.  There 
is  no  great  disturbance  in  the  Greek  camp  in  the 
Doloneia ;  there  is  a  gathering  of  the  principal  chiefs, 
a  visit  to  the  Guards,  and  the  despatch  of  the  two 
spies,  but  no  general  tumult  such  as  there  is  in 
Book  II.  One  cannot  help  wondering  whether  our 
playwright  found  in  his  version  of  the  Doloneia  a 
description  of  fires  in  the  Greek  camp,  such  as  our 
Eighth  Book  has  of  those  in  the  Trojan  camp.  The 
object  might  be  merely  protection  against  a  night 
attack,  or  it  might  be  a  wish  to  fly,  as  Hector  thinks. 
If  so,  presumably  the  Assembly  changed  its  mind — 
much  as  it  does  in  our  Book  II. — and  determined  to 
send  spies. 

P.  5,  1.  43  ff.,  The  shipyard  timbers.] — The  Greeks 
had  their  ships  drawn  up  on  the  beach  and  protected 
by  some  sort  of  wooden  "  shipyard  " ;  then  came  the 
camp;  then,  outside  the  whole,  a  trench  and  a  wall. 
The  fires  were  in  the  camp. 

P.  8,  1.  105,  Brother!  I  would  thy  wit  were  like 
\  thy  spear!] — In  Homer  Hector  is  impulsive  and  over- 
daring,  but  still  good  in  counsel.  On  the  stage 
\ery  quality  that  is  characteristic  is  apt   to  be  over- 

56 


NOTES 

emphasized,  all  that  is  not  characteristic  neglected. 
Hence  on  the  Attic  stage  Odysseus  is  more  crafty, 
Ajax  and  Diomedes  more  blunt,  Menelaus  more  un war- 
like and"  more  uxorious  than  in  Homer. 

This  speech  of  Aeneas,  though  not  inapposite,  is 
rather  didactic — a  fault  which  always  remained  a 
danger  to  Euripides. 

P.  lO,  1.  150  ff.,  Dolon.] — The  name  is  derived  from 
dolos,  "  craft."  In  our  version  of  Homer  Dolon  merely 
wears,  over  his  tunic,  the  skin  of  a  grey  wolf.  He 
has  a  leather  cap  and  a  bow.  In  the  play  he  goes, 
as  Red  Indian  spies  used  to  go,  actually  disguised  as 
a  wolf,  on  all  fours  in  a  complete  wolf-skin.  The 
same  version  is  found  on  the  Munich  cylix  of  the 
early  vase-painter  Euphronius  (about  500  B.C.),  in 
which  Dolon  wears  a  tight-fitting  hairy  skin  with  a 
long  tail.  The  plan  can  of  course  only  succeed  in  a 
country  where  wild  animals  are  common  enough  to  be 
thought  unimportant.  The  playwright  has  evidently 
chosen  a  more  primitive  and  romantic  version  of  the 
story;  the  Homeric  reviser  has,  as  usual,  cut  out  what 
might  seem  ridiculous.  (See  J.  A.  K.  Thomson  in 
Classical  Review,  xxv.  pp.  238  f.) 

P.  12,  1.  175,  Ajax,  ileus'  son.] — "Ajax"  is  men- 
tioned here  and  at  11.  463,  497,  601,  as  apparently 
next  in  importance  to  the  two  Atrcidae  or  to  Achilles. 
That  is  natural,  but  it  is  a  shock  to  have  him  here  de- 
scribed as  son  of  Ileus.  In  the  Iliad  we  should  have 
had  "  Ajax  son  of  Telamon."  The  son  of  Ileus  is 
"  Ajax  the  less,"  a  hero  of  the  second  rank.  Scholars 
have  conjectured  on  other  grounds  that  in  some  older 
form  of  the  Iliad-saga  Ajax  son  of  Ileus  was  of  much 
greater  importance.     The  father  "  Telamon  "  and  the 

57 


EURIPIDES 

connection   with   Aegina  are  neither  of  them  original 
in  the  myth. 

P.  12,  I.  182,  Achilles'  horses.] — They  are  as 
glorious  in  the  Iliad  as  they  are  here.  Cf.  especially 
the  passages  where  they  bear  Automedon  out  of  the 
battle  (end  of  XV'^I.),  and  where  Xanthos  is  given  a 
human  voice  to  warn  his  master  of  the  coming  of 
death  (end  of  XIX.).  The  heroic  age  of  Greece  de- 
lighted in  horses.  Cf.  those  of  Aeneas,  Diomedes, 
Eumelus,  and  Rhesus  himself. 

P.  15,  11.  225-263,  Chorus.] — Apollo  is  appealed  to 
as  a  God  of  Thymbra  in  the  Troad,  of  Delos  the 
Ionian  island,  and  of  Lycia  in  the  South  of  Asia 
Minor ;  the  god  of  Asiatics  and  barbaroi,  the  enemy 
of  the  Achaeans.  This  is  also  to  a  great  extent  the 
conception  of  Apollo  in  the  Iliad,  where  he  fights 
for  Troy  and  is  Hector's  special  patron.  The  sudden 
ferocity  towards  Helen  in  the  last  strophe  is  quite  in 
the  manner  of  Euripides;  cf.  Trojati  Women,  1107 
ff.  (p.  65),  766  a.  (p.  49),  and  often;  also  I  ph.  Taur. 
438  ff.  (p.  21),  where  her  name  comes  somewhat  as 
a  surprise. 

The  stage  directions  here  are  of  course  conjectural: 
it  does  not  seem  likely  that  the  playwright,  having 
made  Dolon  describe  his  wolf's  disguise  in  detail,  would 
waste  the  opportunity  of  making  him  crawl  off  in  it. 
Cf.  on  1.  594,  p.  63,  and  at  the  end  of  the  play. 

P.  16,  1.  267.  Hector  is  as  bluff  and  hasty  here  as  he 
is  impulsively  obstinate  in  1.  319  ff.,  p.  19,  impulsively 
frank  to  Rhesus  in  1.  393  ff.,  p.  23,  and  splendidly 
courteous  under  the  gibes  of  the  wounded  charioteer, 
1.  856  ff.,  p.  47,  A  fine  stage  character,  if  not  a  very 
subtle  study. 

58 


NOTES 

P.  17,  1.  284  ff.  The  description  of  the  march  of  the 
mountaineers,  the  vast  crowd,  the  noise,  the  mixture 
of  all  arms,  suggests  personal  observation.  A  great 
man}'  fifth-century  Athenians  had  probably  served  some 
time  or  other  in  Thrace. 

P.  20,  1.  342,  Adrasteia.] — She-from-whom-there-is- 
no-Running,  is  a  goddess  identified  with  Nemesis,  a 
requiter  of  sin,  especially  the  sin  of  pride  or  over- 
confidence.  In  spite  of  the  opening  apology  this 
whole  chorus,  with  its  boundless  exultation,  is  an 
offence  against  her. — It  is  interesting  to  notice  that  a 
town  and  a  whole  district  in  the  north  of  the  Troad 
was  called  by  her  name;  the  poet  is  using  local  colour 
in  making  his  Trojans  here,  and  Rhesus  in  1.  468, 
speak  of  her.  There  seems  also  to  be  something  char- 
acteristically Thracian  in  the  story  of  the  Muse  and 
the  River,  in  the  title  "  Zeus  of  the  Dawn  "  given  to 
Rhesus,  in  the  revelry  to  be  held  when  Ilion  is  free, 
and  in  the  conception  of  the  king  in  his  dazzling  chariot. 
Sun-god-like. 

P.  23,  11.  394-453,  Speeches  of  Hector  and  Rhesus.] 
— The  scene  reads  to  me  like  a  rather  crude  and 
early  form  of  the  celebrated  psychological  controversies 
of  Euripides.  It  is  simple,  but  spirited  and  in  char- 
acter. The  description  of  Thracian  fighting  again 
suggests  personal  knowledge,  and  so  does  the  boasting. 
The  Thracians  apparently  bound  themselves  with 
heroic  boasts  before  battle  much  as  Irish  and  Highland 
chieftains  sometimes  did,  or  as  the  Franks  did  with 
their  gabs.  (See,  e.g.,  Le  Pelerinage  de  Charlemagne, 
as  described  in  Gaston  Paris,  Litt.  du  Moyen  Age,  I. 
p.  122  ff.)  It  was  a  disgrace  if  you  did  not  fulfil  your 
gab  afterwards, 

S9 


EURIPIDES 

Rhesus's  defence  is  apparently  true,  though  in  a 
modern  play  one  would  have  expected  some  explana- 
tion of  the  rather  different  story  that  his  mother  tells, 
1.  933  fif.,  p.  51.  Perhaps  he  did  not  realise  how  she 
was  holding  him  back.  In  any  case  ancient  technique 
prefers  to  leave  such  details  unsettled :  cf.,  for  instance, 
Helen's  speech  in  the  Trojan  Women,  in  which  the 
false  is  evidently  mixed  up  with  the  true,  and  they 
are  never  separated  afterwards. 

P.  25,  11,  454  ff.  This  little  Chorus  seems  to 
represent — in  due  tragic  convention — an  irrepressible 
outburst  of  applause  from  the  Trojans,  interrupting 
Rhesus's  speech.  In  spite  of  the  words  about  possible 
"  wrath  "  that  may  follow  the  Thracian's  boasting,  the 
applause  excites  him  at  once  to  a  yet  bolder  gab. 

P.  26,  1.  480.  It  may  be  remarked  that  the  play 
here  uses  a  fairly  common  Homeric  phrase  in  a 
sense  which  the  scholars  of  our  tradition  knew  but 
rejected. 

P.  27,  1.  501  ff.  These  three  achievements  of 
Odysseus  are  all  in  the  traditional  saga.  The  Rapt  of 
the  Palladium,  or  figure  of  Pallas,  by  Odysseus  and 
Diomedes,  was  in  an  old  lost  epic,  called  The  Little 
Iliad;  the  Begging  in  Troy  in  the  Little  Iliad  and 
also  in  Odyssey  IV.  242  ff. ;  the  great  ambuscades  in 
Odyssey  IV.  290  ff.,  VIII.  493  ff.,  and  in  Odysseus's 
own  feigned  story,  XIV.  468  ff.  According  to  our 
tradition  they  belong  to  a  later  period  of  the  war  than 
the  death  of  Rhesus,  but  perhaps  the  sequence  was 
different,  or  not  so  definite,  at  the  time  of  this  play. 

P.  28,  1.  528.  Rhesus  shows  the  simple  courage  of 
a  barbarian  in  his  contempt  for  the  ruses  of  Odysseus, 
the  brutality  of  a  barbarian  in  the  methods  of  punish- 

60 


NOTES 

ment  he  proposes.  Such  proposals  would  disgust  a 
Greek;  it  looks  as  if  they  displeased  Hector.  In  any 
case  his  abruptness  here,  and  his  careful  indication  of 
the  place  where  the  Thracians  are  to  sleep,  far  from 
the  rest  of  the  camp,  have  some  dramatic  value  for 
the  sequel. 

Pp.  28-30,  11.  527-564,  Stars  and  Nightingale 
chorus.] — The  beauty  of  these  lines  in  the  Greek  is 
quite  magical,  but  the  stage  management  of  the  scene  is 
difficult.  Apparently  Hector  (1.  523)  bids  the  Guards 
come  forward  from  where  they  are  and  wait  nearer 
the  front  for  Dolon ;  obeying  this  they  come  up  from 
the  orchestra,  we  may  suppose,  to  the  stage.  Then 
watching  somewhere  near  Hector's  tent  they  partly 
express,  in  the  usual  song,  the  lyrical  emotion  of  the 
night,  partly  they  chat  about  Dolon  and  the  order 
of  the  watches.  The  scene  is  technically  very  inter- 
esting with  its  rather  abrupt  introduction  of  realism 
into  the  high  convention  of  tragedy.  Meantime  the 
Trojans'  time  of  watch  is  over  and  the  Lycians,  who 
ought  to  watch  next,  have  not  come.  In  a  modern 
army  it  would  of  course  be  the  duty  of  the  new  watch 
to  come  and  relieve  the  old ;  in  an  ancient  barbaric 
army — characteristically — the  old  watch  had  to  go  and 
wake  the  new.  You  could  not,  one  must  suppose, 
trust  them  to  take  their  turn  otherwise.  At  the  end 
of  the  first  strophe  a  Guard  suggests  that  they  should 
rouse  the  Lycians;  at  the  end  of  the  second  the 
Leader  definitely  gives  the  word  to  do  so.  The 
Guards  go,  and  so  the  stage  (and  orchestra)  is  left 
empty. 

This  is  plain  enough ;  but  why  were  the  Guards 
brought  away  from   their  original  position — from  the 

61 


EURIPIDES 

orchestra  to  the  stage?  Probably  to  allow  the  Greek 
spies  to  pass  on  towards  the  Thracian  camp  by  a 
different  and  unoccupied  way,  not  by  the  way  which  the 
Guards  had  just  taken. 

The  story  of  the  Nightingale  is  well  known:  she  was 
Philomela,  or  in  the  older  story  Procne,  an  Athenian 
princess,  wedded  to  the  faithless  Thracian  king,  Tereus. 
In  a  fury  of  vengeance  on  her  husband  she  slew  their 
only  son,  Itys  or  Itylus,  and  now  laments  him  broken- 
hearted for  ever. 

P.  31,  1.  567  ff.,  Odysseus  and  Diomedes.] — Observe 
how  we  are  left  gradually  to  discover  that  they  have 
met  and  killed  Dolon.  They  enter  carrying,  as  far 
as  we  can  make  out,  a  wolf-skin  that  looks  like  his: 
they  had  evidently  spoken  to  him,  11.  572,  575 :  it  is 
his  and  they  have  killed  him — 1.  592  f. 

All  the  Odysseus-Diomedes  scenes  have  something 
unusual  about  them,  something  daring,  turbulent,  and 
perhaps  lacking  in  dramatic  tact.  The  silent  rush  on 
Hector's  empty  tent  is  hard  to  parallel.  The  cruel 
Athena  is  Euripidean ;  but  her  appearance  in  the 
midst  of  the  action  is  startling,  though  it  may  be  paral- 
leled from  Sophocles'  Ajax.  In  Euripides  Gods  are 
generally  kept  for  the  prologue  or  epilogue,  away  from 
the  ordinary  action.  (The  vision  of  Iris  and  Lyssa  in 
the  middle  of  the  Heracles  has  at  least  the  stage  clear 
of  mortals  and  the  Chorus  apparently  in  a  kind  of 
dream.)  Again  the  conception  of  Athena  pretending 
to  be  Cypris  is  curious.  The  disguised  Athena  is 
common  in  the  Odyssey,  but  she  does  not  disguise 
herself  as  another  goddess.  ( It  is  sometimes  held  that 
this  scene  requires  four  actors,  which  would  be  a 
decisive  mark  of  lateness;   but   this   is  not  really  so* 

63 


NOTES 

The  actor  who  took  Odysseus  could  easily  get  round 
in  time  to  take  Paris  also — especially  if  he  made  his 
exit  at  1.  626,  before  Athena  sees  Paris.  And  the  Greek 
stage  had  no  objection  to  such  doubling.)  Lastly,  the 
scene  of  turmoil  between  the  spies  and  the  Guards  is 
extraordinary  in  a  tragedy,  though  it  would  suit  well 
in  a  pro-satyric  play.    See  Introduction. 

P'  33>  1-  594>  Stage  direction.] — They  bear  Dolon's 
"  spoils  "  or  "  tokens  ":  probably  his  wolf-skin.  If  they 
bring  it  with  them  they  must  probably  do  something 
with  it,  and  to  hang  it  where  it  may  give  Hector  a 
violent  start  seems  the  natural  proceeding.  Also,  they 
can  hardly  be  carrying  it  in  the  scene  with  the  Guards, 
1.  675  ff.,  p.  38  f.  That  would  be  madness.  They 
must  have  got  rid  of  it  before  then,  and  this  seems  the 
obvious  place  for  doing  so. 

P.  36,  11.  637  f¥.,  Athena  as  Cypris.] — It  is  not 
clear  how  this  would  be  represented  on  the  Greek 
stage,  though  there  is  no  reason  to  think  there  would 
be  any  special  difficulty.  On  a  modern  stage  it  could 
be  worked  as  follows: — The  Goddess  will  be  behind  a 
gauze,  so  that  she  is  invisible  when  only  the  lights  in 
front  of  the  gauze  are  lit,  but  visible  when  a  light  goes 
up  behind  it.  She  will  first  appear  with  helmet  and 
spear  in  some  hard  light;  then  disappear  and  be  re- 
discovered in  the  same  place  in  a  softer  light,  the 
helmet  and  spear  gone  and  some  emblems  of  Cypris — 
say  a  flower  and  a  dove — in  their  place.  Of  course  the 
voice  will  change  too. 

The  next  scene,  where  the  two  spies  are  caught 
and  let  go,  is  clear  enough  in  its  general  structure ;  the 
details  must  remain  conjectural. 

P.  40,  1.  703,  What  the  High  God.] — It  would  be 

63 


EURIPIDES 

unparalleled  in  classical  Greek  to  describe  a  man  by 
his  religion ;  but  this  phrase  seems  only  to  mean :  "  What 
is  his  tribal  God?"  i.e.  what  is  his  tribe?  Thus  it 
could  be  said  of  Isagoras  in  Herodotus  (v.  66)  that  his 
kinsmen  sacrificed  to  Carian  Zeus,  suggesting,  presum- 
ably, that  he  had  Carian  blood. 

P.  42,  1.  728,  Voice  of  the  wounded  man  outside.] — 
The  puzzled  and  discouraged  talk  of  the  Guards  round 
the  fire,  the  groaning  in  the  darkness  without,  the  quick 
alarm  among  the  men  who  had  been  careless  before, 
and  the  slow  realisation  of  disaster  that  follows — all 
these  seem  to  me  to  be  wonderfully  indicated,  though  the 
severe  poetic  convention  excludes  any  approach  to  what 
we,  by  modern  prose  standards,  would  call  effective 
realism. 

P.  44,  11.  756-803.  This  fine  vivid  speech  has 
something  of  the  famous  Euripidean  Messenger- 
Speeches  in  it;  though  they  are  apt  to  be  much 
longer  and  also  are  practically  never  spoken  by  a  prin- 
cipal in  the  action,  always  by  a  subordinate  or  an  on- 
looker. Cf.  the  speech  of  the  Messenger-Shepherd 
above,  p.  17  f.  An  extreme  sharpness  of  articulation  is 
characteristic  of  Euripides'  later  work:  each  speech, 
each  scene,  each  effect  is  isolated  and  made  complete 
in  itself.  The  Messenger  prepares  his  message,  relates 
his  message  and  goes,  not  mixing  himself  up  in  the 
further  fortunes  of  the  drama.  But  this  extreme  pur- 
suit of  lucidity  and  clear  outlines  is  not  nearly  so  marked 
in  the  early  plays:  in  the  Cyclops  the  Messenger's 
speech  is  actually  spoken  by  Odysseus,  11.  382-436,  and 
the  Serving  Man  and  Serving  Maid  in  the  Alcestis  are 
not  mere  abstract  Messengers. 

P.  46,  11.  810-830,  Hector  and  the  Guard.] — There 

64 


NOTES 

is  intentional  colour  here — the  impulsive  half-barbaric 
rage  of  Hector,  the  oriental  grovelling  of  the  Guard, 
and  of  course  the  quick  return  to  courteous  self- 
mastery  with  which  Hector  receives  the  taunts  of  the 
wounded  man. 

P.  46,  1.  819.  The  Guard  seems  to  think  that  the 
spies  got  past  him  when  he  came  to  Hector's  tent  at 
the  beginning  of  the  play.  It  was  really  later,  when 
he  made  his  men  leave  their  post  to  wake  the  Lycians. 
Perhaps  he  is  lying. 

P.  48,  1.  876,  Justice  knows.] — It  Is  a  clever  touch 
to  leave  the  Thracian  still  only  half-convinced  and 
grumbling. 

P.  49,  1.  882,  Appearance  of  the  Muse.] — A  beau- 
tiful scene.  It  has  been  thought  to  come  abruptly  and, 
as  it  were,  unskilfully  on  top  of  the  familiar  dialogue 
between  Hector  and  the  Thracian.  But  the  move- 
ments, first  of  soldiers  lifting  and  carrying  the  wounded 
man,  and  then  of  messengers  taking  word  to  Priam  for 
burial  of  the  men  slain,  make  the  transition  much 
easier. 

P.  50, 1.  895  ff.  and  1.  906  ff.,  A  dirge  of  the  Thracian 
mountains.] — Such  dirges  must  have  struck  the  Greeks 
as  the  fragments  of  Ossian  struck  the  Lowlanders  among 
us.  I  have  found  that  the  dirge  here  goes  naturally 
into  a  sort  of  Ossianic  rhythm. 

P.  51,  1.  915.  The  speech  of  the  Muse  seems  like 
the  writing  of  a  poet  who  is,  for  the  moment,  tired 
of  mere  drama,  and  wishes  to  get  back  into  his  own 
element.  Such  passages  are  characteristic  of  Euri- 
pides.— The  death  of  Rhesus  seems  to  the  Muse  like 
an  act  of  vengeance  from  the  dead  Thamyris,  the 
Thracian  bard  who  had   blasphemied  the  Muses  and 

65 


EURIPIDES 

challenged  them  to  a  contest  of  song.  They  con- 
quered him  and  left  him  blind,  but  still  a  poet.  The 
story  in  Homer  is  more  terrible,  though  more  civilised : 
"  They  in  wrath  made  him  a  maimed  man,  they  took 
away  his  heavenly  song  and  made  him  forget  his 
harping." 

Thamyris,  the  bard  who  defied  Heaven;  Orpheus, 
the  bard,  saint,  lover,  whose  severed  head  still  cried 
for  his  lost  Eurydice;  Musaeus,  the  bard  of  mystic 
wisdom  and  initiations — are  the  three  great  legendary 
figures  of  this  Northern  mountain  minstrelsy. 

P.  52,  1.  950.  These  short  speeches  between  Hector 
and  the  Leader  of  the  Guard  make  a  jarring  note  in 
the  midst  of  the  Muse's  lament.  Perhaps  it  would  not 
be  so  if  we  knew  how  the  play  was  produced,  but  at 
present  this  seems  like  one  of  several  marks  of  com- 
parative crudity  in  technique  which  mark  the  play,  amid 
all  its  daring  and  inventiveness. 

P.  52,  1.  962  ff..  My  son  shall  not  be  laid  in  any 
grave.] — Like  other  Northern  barbaric  princes,  such  as 
Orpheus  (1.  972  below)  and  Zaimoxis  (Herodotus,  iv. 
95)  and  Holgar  the  Dane,  Rhesus  lies  in  a  hidden 
chamber  beneath  the  earth,  watching,  apparently,  for 
the  day  of  uttermost  need  when  he  must  rise  to  help 
his  people.  There  is  no  other  passage  in  Greek  tragedy 
where  such  a  fate  is  attributed  to  a  hero,  though  the 
position  of  Darius  in  the  Persae  and  Agamemnon 
in  the  Choephori  or  the  Electra  is  in  some  ways 
analogous. 

The  last  lines  of  the  Muse  have  a  very  Euripidean 
ring:  cf.  Medea,  1.  1090  (p.  61,  "My  thoughts  have 
roamed  a  cloudy  land  "),  Alcestis,  1.  882. 

P.  54,  11.  983-end.     This  curious  and  moving  end 

66 


NOTES 

— not  in  death  or  peace  but  in  a  girding  of  tired  men 
to  greater  toil — reminds  one  of  the  last  words  of  The 
Trojan  Women:  "Forth  to  the  long  Greek  ships 
And  the  sea's  foaming,"  and  the  last  words  of  the 
Chanson  de  Roland  there  quoted. 

The  Trojans  evidently  go  forth  under  the  shadow 
of  disaster,  though  with  firmness  and  courage.  The 
stage  direction  is  of  course  purely  conjectural.  If 
Diomedes  left  some  sign  of  Dolon's  death  for  Hector 
to  see,  as  he  probably  must  have  done,  then  Hector 
must  at  some  time  or  other  see  it.  If  so,  this  seems 
to  be  the  place. 


THE   END 


67 


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